


Eyes on the Prize (Rolled to the Sky)

by Cydersyrup



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming of Age, Creackhead thoughts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Humor, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Mentions of Suicide, Other, Platonic Love, Platonic Relationships, Some Crack, Swearing, Tattoos, They're such good friends tho, Verbal Abuse, but in passing, just the boys being boys, like a lot of swearing, one mildly suggestive scene but that's about it, questionable morals, teenager antics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cydersyrup/pseuds/Cydersyrup
Summary: Doyoung never thought there would come a time in his life where he’d have to abandon his family.Or as Donghyuck puts it: “Asserting your personal freedom from your pathetic excuse of a stepfather. Your mom’s sweet as hell, though.”
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung
Comments: 61
Kudos: 220





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> Just to clarify some things:  
> 1\. This is set in California, not Korea, so all the test and school references are based on the system in the U.S.  
> 2\. If the concept of domestic emotional/verbal/implied-physical abuse bothers you, reading this might not be the best idea
> 
> Okay, without further ado, enjoy!!!

**April 18**

Doyoung knows what his mother is going to say this morning before he even makes his way downstairs.

_‘Why didn’t you set the table?’_

He ignores the voice in his head as he descends the stairs, entering the kitchen area as quietly as possible. As usual, his mother is sitting on the couch in the small living room right by the dining area, sipping a cup of tea. When he enters, she turns her head to face him, a small frown etched into her elegant features.

“Charlie, why haven’t you set the table yet?”

_Annnnnd there it is._

Doyoung groans silently and tries his best to not turn around and head back up the stairs he just came down from. “Sorry, mom. I got up later than I thought.”

His mother makes a disapproving sound from where she sits on the couch, playing some game on her ipad. “Your dad won’t like that. Set it now.” Her voice is firm and authoritative, and Doyoung finds it utterly _disgusting_.

“Sure thing.” Doyoung shuffles mindlessly around the kitchen, pulling out table mats and silverware to set the table with. There’s four chairs around the circular dining table, and Doyoung sets the table for three. 

Some days he misses his childhood, when everything was so simple and carefree.

Which is to say, every day for the past six years.

He finishes setting the table just as his stepfather Will comes down the stairs. He’s a middle-aged white man who’s balding around the top of his head and has a belly rounder than a woman six months pregnant. Doyoung mutters a quick ‘good morning’ before pulling out ingredients to make breakfast with. Saturdays are always a safe bet. His mother likes english muffins with butter, fried eggs, and bacon. His stepfather likes two buttered toasts, fried eggs, and bacon.

Doyoung cooks in silence, and feels his body go on autopilot as he cracks eggs into one pan and sets strips of bacon into the other. He can hear his parents talk in the background—no doubt something about him—and it all blends together into an ugly buzz of white noise inside his head.

When breakfast is served, Will looks down at the table and scowls. “Where’s the juice?”

_‘Goddamn it.’_

“My bad, I must’ve forgotten that,” Doyoung mutters, scooting out of his chair quickly and pulling out the glasses from the nearby cabinet. He curses himself for his forgetfulness the entire time, because he knows what will happen.

3…

He opens the refrigerator and pulls out the carton of orange juice.

2…

The juice is poured evenly into all three glasses.

1…

Doyoung sets the glasses down at the table, one for each person present.

0.

“You know, you can’t just shut your brain off and go around doing whatever without even thinking. Things change and you have to adapt to it,” Will scolds. His condescending tone is so thick, Doyoung swears he can just pick up the butter knife and carve into it.

It’s JUICE, for fuck’s sake.

“Kids these days, you all focus on electronics too much to watch the world around you. You have to google everything you do. You know, back in my day, we didn’t have google. We used books and our brains…”

 _‘Yeah, and you died younger too,’_ Doyoung thinks, and mentally rolls his eyes.

Will still hasn’t stopped talking, and makes a show of it by waving his fork around. “If you kids think you’re so smart, try going out and leaving home to make a living right now. Go on, do it. I bet you can’t. All you kids now have no practical skills besides going on your damn electronics and playing games all day…”

Doyoung tunes out everything else his stepfather spews out and finishes his food in record time, before excusing himself from the table and going over to the sink to wash the dishes.

“See, he only ever eats fast and ignores me when I’m right.” 

Doyoung catches his mother nodding along to the bullshit his stepfather says, and his blood boils inside him something hideous.

Every weekend.

Every goddamn weekend.

“Charlie!”

Doyoung turns to his mother. “Sorry, what?” he asks in Korean.

His mother sighs. “What are you going to do today, sweetheart?” she replies in the same tongue.

Will scowls. “Don’t speak Korean in front of me, that’s rude.”

Doyoung whips his head around, fighting the urge to punch the man square in the eye. “Why’s that?” he asks, deadly calm.

“I can’t understand it,” Will replies plainly, like that's a legitimate excuse to bash someone’s culture. “It’s rude to speak to someone in a language they can’t understand. English only in this household.”

Doyoung’s about to bite back with a smart remark when a hand closes around his wrist. He turns, and sees his mother looking at him with a tired, resigned look in her eyes. She shakes her head gently, signaling for him to calm down.

“What’re you doing today, sweetheart?” she asks, this time in English.

“I think I’m gonna go finish some homework before meeting with Jae,” Doyoung says quickly, retreating out of the kitchen and walking as fast as he could back upstairs to his room.

Once he is sure that his door is closed and it is just him and his own thoughts, Doyoung grabs a pillow, screams into it, and hurls it against his wall with all the hate-fueled strength he has.

One of these days, he’ll show Will the definition of _rude_. Just he wait.

* * *

Jaehyun Jung is the perfect specimen of an Asian-American boy, in Doyoung’s opinion. He’s tall, handsome, athletic, dresses in athleisure almost 24/7, and has a mellow speaking voice.

He’s also strikingly pale, sunburns like it's nobody’s business, and incredibly stubborn, considering that of all the sports he could have picked, he picked swimming.

Doyoung barely thinks about how badly his best friend is going to suffer in the scorching late April heat when he arrives at the pool. His head is still filled with Will’s mocking voice, and it’s all he could hear as he drops his duffle bag down by the benches and pulls off his jacket.

“—young.”

Doyoung pulls off his track pants, and adjusts the jammers he has on underneath.

“Doyoung…”

He unzips his bag and pulls out his goggles and cap.

“Doyoung!”

A hand waves in front of his face, and Doyoung backs up, startled. “Huh?”

Jaehyun is standing there, looking half-amused and half-concerned. “You alright?”

Doyoung snaps his cap on without looking Jaehyun in the eye. “Just peachy. Why’d you ask?”

“Uh-oh.” Jaehyun’s face contorts into _‘The Look’_ , where he knows something is up with Doyoung and is about to ask questions. “What happened, Doie? Talk to me.”

“Same bullshit,” Doyoung huffs, fixing his goggles over his cap. He really doesn’t want to talk to Jaehyun about his home life right now. The other boy always gets so invested in it and it’ll distract him for the rest of the day. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Jaehyun asks.

Sometimes Doyoung thinks Jaehyun cares too much for his own good.

And sometimes he thinks it’s better to not care at all.

But it’s hard to not care, when Jaehyun is standing right there in front of him, looking at him with those eyes that reflect every emotion he feels. Doyoung can see sadness and worry in them, and turns his head away.

“We’ll talk more about it after practice,” he says with finality, walking to the end of the pool as Coach Lee began yelling for everyone to find a lane. 

Doyoung doesn’t see the look Jaehyun gives him when he turns his back, but he knows it’s there, all the same. He can feel its weight on him, pressing against his insides and reminding him that even in a world that he hates so much in his teenage angst and stress, that someone out there is watching out for him.

And if over ten years of friendship has taught Doyoung anything, it’s that Jaehyun will always watch over him, whether he likes it or not.

* * *

“Alright, now that we’re both wet and exhausted,” Jaehyun groans as he plops down on the seat across from Doyoung at the café closest to campus. “Spill your guts. I wanna hear everything.” 

“You already know the story, Jae,” Doyoung sighs.

Jaehyun waves off his comment. “Same story, different versions, and all of which I wanna hear.”

Doyoung searches for the right words to say, but it’s hard to think when Jaehyun’s staring at him so intently. It’s distracting, to say the least. Jaehyun’s hair is darker with moisture that will probably dry off in the next twenty minutes and his chest is bare underneath the half-zipped windbreaker Doyoung got him last Christmas. 

“Earth to Doyoung.” Fingers snap in front of his face, and Doyoung doesn’t even realize that he’s been staring until Jaehyun’s concerned and mildly irritated gaze comes into focus. “Are you even listening to me?”

Doyoung rolls his eyes and flicks some wet hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, I am. Okay, so—”

“Leave a single detail out and I’ll find you, Doyoung Kim,” Jaehyun interrupts warningly, raising a finger to point in Doyoung’s face. “I know where you live, dude. I can and I will kidnap and interrogate you.”

“Jesus Christ, Jae. I’ll talk. Happy now?” Doyoung pushes Jaehyun’s hand away and fiddles absently with the straw in his iced coffee. Jaehyun watches him expectantly, fingers tapping at the plastic of his own coffee cup. Doyoung takes in a breath. It’s not the first time he’s told Jaehyun of all the dirt on his home life, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Jaehyun’s probably heard enough of Doyoung’s rants in the last couple years to publish an encyclopedia with.

“Everything sucks,” Doyoung starts, because honestly, that’s how he's feeling at the moment. “Everything just fucking sucks.”

Jaehyun nods, taking a sip of his coffee. “Elaborate.”

“Like, AP season is rolling around and so is finals and I really need to find a summer job for some money and book my flight to Socal for college and my parents are driving me absolutely FUCKING NUTS,” Doyoung says in one breath. “I just can’t catch a fucking break. I got lectured for forgetting to put fuckin’ JUICE out for breakfast today. What kind of bullshit is that?”

“And lemme guess, the lecturing was all by your stepdad and they called you ‘Charlie’.”

“Don’t say that name!” Doyoung snaps. He doesn’t bother apologizing to Jaehyun, because he knows that Jaehyun knows that he didn’t mean to sound hostile. “I’m so fucking sick of that name! It’s Doyoung, goddamn it! How hard is it to say? Do-young. Two syllables. Can that bastard not even say two syllables? Why the fuck did I have to change my name to accomodate him? He won’t even let me or my mom speak Korean in the house!”

Jaehyun hums sympathetically and motions for Doyoung to continue, which he does. Happily. Angrily. Completely pissed off.

“I did JACK SHIT to deserve this! Who the fuck did I murder in my past life to get stuck with some dude who doesn’t know shit about our culture and tries to SUPPRESS it?! And thing is, my mom doesn’t even protest! Like she’s totally okay with being whitewashed completely! What the fuck! And not just that! Everything I do is either wrong or not good enough.” He raises his hands in a mocking imitation of Will’s flamboyant hand-waving. “Oh, I slipped the napkin to the right instead of the left? Bam, lecture. For ten minutes! It’s a goddamn napkin, fix the fuckin’ thing yourself, you smooth-brained failed abortion!”

“That’s a new one,” Jaehyun murmurs, more to himself than anyone else as he whips out his phone and types in Doyoung’s latest insult onto an ever-growing list.

Doyoung continues with his rant. “I mean, did I burn his house down? No. Did I murder his family? No. All I do is get good grades, do what I’m told, swim, and live my life. I didn’t ask for this. Like, why him, mom? Why not someone who actually appreciates our culture and doesn’t wreck my self-esteem to the point of me actually wanting to kill them just to make it stop?”

“Okay, I’m just gonna stop you there,” Jaehyun cuts in, brows furrowed in worry. “Dude, are you like...okay? Up here?” He taps his temple for emphasis.

Doyoung glares at Jaehyun straight in the eye. “Do I look very fucking okay up there, Jae? Do I seriously look like if you put me in a room full of china I would hesitate to pick up the nearest bat and smash the whole place to hell?”

“A ‘no’ would’ve sufficed just fine, but I get your point,” Jaehyun sighs. “So your stepdad is an egotistical bastard who enjoys mocking you for fun and is an uncultured swine. You’ve had enough of his bullshit and you’re going insane. Anything that I missed?”

“I want to kill him.”

“Doyoung, NO.”

“I wanna kill him so bad, Jae.”

“I can bail you out of detention, maybe jail, but I can’t bail you out of prison, Doie.”

“Well, it’s either that or I kill myself—”

A loud SMACK resonates in Doyoung’s ear, and it takes a second for the sting to settle in. He turns his head slowly, meeting Jaehyun’s eyes from where the other boy is currently standing, leaning over the table and glaring holes into Doyoung’s head.

“Did you just slap me?” Doyoung asks incredulously.

“Yes, I fucking did.” Jaehyun’s tone leaves no room for argument. “Listen to yourself! What the fuck are you even saying?”

“That I wanna die.”

Jaehyun throws his hands up in frustration. “No, you idiot! And you know why? Because in four months we’re gonna be outta here and in Socal for college. Away from your parents and whatever crap they try to pull on you.”

Doyoung stares at the melting ice cubes in his coffee, feeling a sudden rush of tiredness wash over him. “Four months is such a long time.”

“And nothing compared to the six years you’ve been putting up with them already!” Jaehyun counters. “Besides, you know you can just come crash at my place whenever, right? My parents love you.”

Doyoung visibly deflates, defeat taking the place of tiredness as he meets Jaehyun’s eyes. “You know my parents will never let me.”

“Well, you’re eighteen, they can’t make your decisions for you anymore.”

“If you live under our roof, you live under our rules,” Doyoung recites miserably. “Which I still do.”

Jaehyun reaches out and pats Doyoung’s hand gently. “Then move out. Move in with me. My room is large enough for two people. My parents won’t mind. I know they won’t.”

“Jae, I can’t do that to you.”

“Yeah, you can. I’m literally about to get on my knees and beg you to move in with me, Doyoung. Don’t make me do it, ‘cause I will, and it'll be embarrassing for both of us.” Jaehyun looks so somber that Doyoung actually can’t take him seriously for a minute. He laughs, and Jaehyun’s face immediately drops into a pout.

“What’s so funny?”

Doyoung stops laughing for a second to take in Jaehyun’s expression, before cracking up again. He draws attention from some people walking by and other cafe patrons around them, but Doyoung doesn’t care.

“Your face,” he gasps out between chortles, and Jaehyun’s expression shifts from pouting to confused to amused. 

“Glad to see you smiling again.”

Doyoung recovers just enough to give a short nod. “Highlight of my week.”

“You know, you’re so much stronger than what you give yourself credit for,” Jaehyun says, flashing Doyoung a dimpled smile. “All these years of emotional abuse and here you are, still alive and fighting.”

“Not really fighting, considering I didn’t break anyone’s bones yet,” Doyoung scoffs.

“There’s more than one way to fight.” Jaehyun’s voice drops into a more serious tone. “He’s playing a game with you, Doyoung. And _he’s_ only winning because he’s using cheat codes to stop _you_ from winning. But guess what? We’re the new generation. We make the cheat codes, my dude.”

Doyoung nods silently. As always, Jaehyun’s right. Whatever sick game his stepfather has him trapped in, Doyoung has only been losing because he’s been playing fair. And as much as he’d like to win, he’s only been playing so long because he can’t quit the game. 

Maybe it’s time he stops being so lenient. Doyoung has put up with six years’ worth of emotional and verbal abuse. He’s had his legal name changed to Charlie, which is utterly distasteful. His Korean has degraded so much from disuse it’s only at par to a fifth-grader’s. He wakes up every morning planning out entire conversations in his head so he won’t say something wrong and piss off Will. Ever since he was twelve, his entire life is just to exist walking on eggshells.

It's all bullshit.

And if there's one thing Doyoung hates, it's taking bullshit.

“Jae.”

“What?”

“I just had an idea.”

“Let’s hear it.”

A smile that’s borderline sinister crawls across Doyoung’s face. “Donghyuck.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen comically and he chokes on his coffee. It takes him a minute to cough it all out and reorient himself before he turns to Doyoung, eyes narrowed into slits. 

“If you’re thinking of bringing Hyuck into this, you’re outta your damn mind.”

“Jae, I haven’t been IN my right mind since the night I came home to find out that my mom actually married that asshole.”

“Fair enough, but still.”

“Jae, listen, hear me out.”

Jaehyun groans. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“Do I want to?”

“No.”

“Do I have a choice?”

Doyoung smiles tightly. “No. So listen.”

“I’m listening,” Jaehyun says, sounding miserable.

“I’ll move in with you.”

Jaehyun chokes on his coffee again. Doyoung rolls his eyes and hands the poor soul a couple napkins to wipe the coffee dribbling down his chin.

“You’re serious?” Jaehyun’s eyes are wide with excitement. “Really? You mean it?”

Doyoung smiles. “Well, in the last couple minutes, I’ve had some time to think.”

“That’s not an awfully long time.”

“Shut up. Like you said, we’re outta here in four months. Gone.”

Jaehyun blows the remaining coffee out of his nose. The face he makes is hideous but so endearing. “Uh-huh.”

“So I really hope you mean your parents won’t mind me sleeping over until August, because like I said, I’ve had enough of my parents’ bullshit.”

“Hell yeah.” Jaehyun grins.

“I’ll start packing in small amounts and bring the goods over to your house week by week.” Doyoung does the calculations in his head and counts on his fingers for good measure. “Should be done by the end of this month or so.”

Jaehyun finishes his coffee and reaches forward to steal a sip of Doyoung’s. “Your room _is_ depressingly empty.”

Doyoung shrugs. “Less to pack.”

“So what does Donghyuck have to do with any of this?”

“Oh, it’s not just him.” Doyoung pulls out his phone and scrolls through his text messages. “We need the whole squad.”

Jaehyun laughs incredulously and runs a hand through his faded brown hair. “This is gonna be so bad.”

“No.” Doyoung leans over and plucks his coffee out of Jaehyun’s grasp. “It’s gonna be the fucking highlight of our senior year. And possibly the rest of my life.”

“What the hell are we even doing, man?”

Doyoung’s eyes gleam with a dangerous light as he leans forward. There is no more of that depressed, angsty shell around him anymore. Just pure, unfiltered determination. Jaehyun recognizes that look from every time Doyoung stands on the diving block, ready to completely annihilate his opponents in the water.

“Being done with patronizing assholes and their bullshit,” he hisses gleefully. “I’m done being frustrated and sad, Jae. I’m mad now.”

Jaehyun takes his empty cup and clinks it against Doyoung’s. “I’ll drink to that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter like 3 times 'cause it's just so CHAOTIC (>v<)  
> Hope you all enjoy!!

**April 24**

They meet up at Jaehyun’s house, like they always do on Friday night. Doyoung is sitting cross-legged on Jaehyun’s bed, while the owner is lying two feet away in his pajamas, legs propped up against the wall and scrolling through his phone. Johnny and Taeil are sitting on the floor going over their AP Chemistry notes together while Mark and Donghyuck try to shove each other off Jaehyun’s oversized bean bag.

“Y’know, every time I come here all I can think of is how many rooms in my house can fit into this one room,” Taeyong sighs as he enters. His honey-blonde hair is pushed back under a snapback and there’s a nasty bruise on his left cheekbone. Doyoung opens his mouth to point it out but Taeyong beats him to it.

“Yuta kicked a soccer ball at me.”

“It was an ACCIDENT!” a loud voice protests. Yuta appears behind Taeyong, looking only slightly guilty and out of breath. “I said I was sorry! How was I supposed to see you out in the field?”

“My hair is literally YELLOW, Yuta! What more do you need?”

“The sun’s yellow too! You don’t see me looking for the goddamn sun in a field!”

“That doesn’t even make any fucking sense!”

“EXCUSE me!” Jungwoo passes through the door, closing it behind him. He’s holding a large foil-wrapped package in his arms, which he promptly dumps into Yuta’s hands before shoving him and Taeyong to arm’s-length apart. 

“Hi!” he says pleasantly. “I baked cookies!”

“God bless!” Donghyuck rolls off Mark, who yelps when Donghyuck’s knee jabs him in the ribs. The younger boy ignores him and makes a beeline for Yuta. “I was getting SO hungry, you have no idea!”

“You ate before we left!” Taeyong chides, glaring disbelievingly at his little brother.

“Yeah, and that was an hour ago, bro. I’m hungry.” Donghyuck lifts the foil and proceeds to cram three chocolate chip cookies into his mouth at the same time. “Pwuphhs oowooon.”

Jungwoo smiles. “You’re welcome.”

“So,” Johnny closes his notebook and sets his backpack aside. “What’s today’s agenda, my dudes?”

All eyes turn towards Taeyong, who usually serves as their little group’s de facto leader. He startles at the attention before raising his hands in the universal sign of “don’t look at me”.

“Hey, I didn’t plan this thing out today,” Taeyong says, taking a seat next to Taeil on the floor. “I have no idea what’s up.”

Jaehyun groans as he rolls over onto his stomach, long legs barely missing Doyoung on their topple down. “Guys, tonight’s about Doyoung, actually. He needs our help.”

“Oh?” Yuta sets down the cookies in the middle of their circle and sits. The smile splitting his face is borderline predatory as his eyes meet Doyoung's. “What can we do you for, Doie?”

Doyoung sighs and scoots closer to the edge of the bed. “I need your help in breaking me outta my own house.”

“Oof.” Johnny sucks air through his teeth. “With those helicopter parents of yours? Dude, why didn’t you ask earlier? It’s AP prep season.”

“I know that,” Doyoung snaps. “But I can’t take them anymore. Fuck this, I’m moving in with Jae.”

“Well, that won’t be a problem,” Mark quips, looking over Jaehyun’s ridiculously large bedroom. “So what do you need us all for?”

“I have a plan,” Doyoung says. “It’ll take maybe three—two weeks if we work efficiently. I need to find a way to move my stuff from my room to Jae’s without making my parents suspicious, and block them out of my accounts. Then I have to get a new phone, phone number, and a job so I can pay my share of college funds.”

“Dude, you got a full ride to USC,” Mark deadpans. “What do you even need to pay for?”

“You never know. Better safe than sorry.”

“Hell yeah,” Donghyuck agrees. “You’re finally asserting your personal freedom from your pathetic excuse of a stepfather. Your mom’s sweet as hell, though.”

Doyoung shrugs. He hasn’t really talked to his mom much over the last couple years, mostly because of their conflicting views on her husband. ‘Sweet’ isn’t his exact first choice of words to describe her, but then again, Donghyuck isn’t the one living with a brainwashed puppet.

“So,” Jaehyun stands, drawing all attention to him. “Doyoung can take care of the account stuff himself, but does anyone wanna help him move out?”

Yuta frowns. “How?”

“I’m gonna pack my clothes and essentials into small duffels, the same ones I take with me to practice,” Doyoung explains. “But an extra pair of hands and an extra bag won’t hurt.”

Understanding flashes over everyone’s faces. Taeyong immediately raises a hand. “I can do it.”

Doyoung thinks that’s a safe bet. Everyone loves Taeyong, even his mother. The guy is a perfect model child—good looks, good grades, incredibly polite—the perfect agent. Sure, he’s also studying art to get into tattooing and is covered with ink himself, but the parents don’t need to know that.

“So Taeyong, you visit Doyoung once in a while and help carry some of his stuff to here,” Jaehyun says. “Just tell his parents you’re studying together or something.”

Taeyong gives him two thumbs-up. “Got it.”

“What about the phone thing?” Jungwoo asks. “Doie, doesn’t your parents track your finances too?”

“I got the phone,” Mark mumbles out around a mouthful of cookies. “I owe him, anyway. I’ll buy the phone and take care of the phone number for you.”

Donghyuck snorts. “What the hell did you do to Doyoung to owe him a phone?”

Mark slaps at his gremlin of a boyfriend and misses. “None of your fucking business,” he snaps, before yowling as the younger boy pounces on him and pulls him into a crazy jiu-jitsu hold.

“Moving on…” Jaehyun ignores the two youngest in the room as they continue to fight. “Money.”

Silence falls over the boys, sans Mark and Donghyuck, who are still wrestling. Doyoung doesn’t blame them. They’re all broke high school (soon-to-be college) kids, and those who even have jobs are paid minimum wage or just barely above. 

“I mean...I could ask my aunt if you wanna help in the bakery,” Jungwoo offers hesitantly. “But I dunno how well that’ll last you for, Doie, because you’re going to Socal and all…”

Doyoung considers it. It doesn’t sound too bad, actually. Just a little...non-permanent. “Um...maybe as a summer job thing? Until I find an internship or something?”

Jungwoo positively beams. “That works! I’ll ask her tomorrow, then.”

“And I mean, if you really need money and somewhere close to campus, why not try being a waiter?” Taeil adds. “They make good tips.”

“Especially if they’re attractive,” Yuta chirps, before giving Doyoung an obvious once-over. “Y’know, if you just sweep your hair off your forehead and wear some nice clothes for a change, you’ll be making bank.”

Doyoung looks down at his black hoodie and sweatpants. “You tellin’ me that what I have on right now is ugly?” he challenges, narrowing his eyes.

Yuta shrugs. “I’m just telling it like it is. You got a hot body from swimming, Doie. Good shoulders too. Show it off sometimes.” His eyes suddenly dart to Jaehyun, who startles as they make eye contact. “I mean, just look at Jae. Damn, if that ain’t one of the tastiest pieces of men I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

Johnny cracks up, laughing so hard he has to lean on Taeil for support. Donghyuck pretends to retch, and Mark shrieks. Jaehyun’s ears flush red as all the attention diverts to him, and he pulls a blanket over himself, covering his cut tank and pale (but mildly-sunburnt) skin. Doyoung can’t even bring himself to scoff at Yuta for that one, because (as he’ll begrudgingly admit), he is right.

“Can we not?” Jaehyun groans from within his blanket shield. Yuta cackles at him, and Jaehyun flops sideways and rolls into a cocoon. 

“Doyoung, just get on with the plan so they stop harassing me!” he whines.

“Bitch, you know you hot!” Donghyuck yells. Mark glares at him.

“Awfully well-endowed, too,” Jungwoo adds, looking far too innocent for that statement. “Your future boyfriend is SO lucky.”

“You could just ask Taeil if you wanna know how being with Jae feels like,” Yuta laughs, sending the eldest a smug wink. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

Taeil looks scandalized, his entire face going from honey-toned to inferno red in seconds. “Oi! That was an ACCIDENT!”

“Ay for the gays!” Johnny hollers. “We so fine and y’all know it!”

Doyoung laughs at Jaehyun’s misery, giving his friend a consolatory pat on the butt as the entire room breaks out into absolute chaos. Taeil is leaning over Johnny trying to strangle Yuta, and the tallest has his arms wrapped around Taeil’s midsection, trying to drag the furious eldest away from the smug Japanese boy. Mark and Donghyuck have engaged in another round of tickle-fights, and Taeyong desperately tries to prevent them from breaking something to no avail. Jungwoo reaches past Taeyong’s flailing arms and helps himself to his fifth cookie of the night.

Amidst all the rowdiness and everyone making jokes on every level of inappropriate, Doyoung feels absolutely blessed to be laughing and surrounded by his friends. These times are getting rarer and rarer as he grows older, and he honestly can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed and at ease outside of school.

But that’s exactly why they’re here.

“Okay,” Doyoung says once the room quieted down some. “One last thing. If I’m gonna go on my terms, we’re gonna have it end with a bang.”

“I like where this is going,” Donghyuck crows with glee, pushing Mark off his lap and lacing his fingers together. “Tell us more.”

Doyoung looks at Taeyong. “Yong, how lenient are your parents when it comes to you driving?”

Taeyong frowns. “Uh...pretty lenient? Why?”

“Would they let you use a car?”

“Which one?”

Doyoung chokes. _Goddamn these rich-ass kids._ “A-any one?”

Taeyong shrugs. “Sure, I’ll bring one of my babies out for you. Why though?”

The smile that pulls Doyoung’s lips apart is tight and genuine and incredibly unkind. Taeyong takes one look at it and gulps.

“Oh, you’ll see, Yong. Everyone will see.” His pocket buzzes, and Doyoung pulls out his phone, feeling his mood fall halfway to Hell at the message on the screen.

[From: Stepdad, 8:23 PM]

_Stop goofing off with your friends and come home_

_Now_

[To: Stepdad, 8:24 PM]

_I literally got here an hour ago_

_Can’t I stay another hour?_

[From: Stepdad, 8:24 PM]

_Don’t make me repeat myself, Charlie_

_Get back here_

_Now_

“Shit, guys. I gotta go.” 

Taeyong’s eyes widen in concern as Doyoung collects his bag and jacket from the floor. “Doie, we all just got here. You really gotta go so soon?

“Do I look like I have a choice?” Doyoung groans. “Will wants me back right now, and I don’t know what fire’s burning his ass to have me back so soon on a Friday, but we boutta find out.”

The room pitches into an uncomfortable silence as everyone watches Doyoung get ready to leave. Doyoung hates this, when the fun for all of his friends is killed because of him, or more specifically, his family dynamics. There’s an emotion clawing away at his stomach, familiar and hideous, and Doyoung wants nothing more than to just root himself to Jaehyun’s floor and cry.

“Let me drive you home,” Jaehyun offers, unrolling himself out of his blankets. “It’s dark out already.”

“And take some cookies with you,” Jungwoo adds, holding out the mostly-empty tray to Doyoung. “You don’t know when you might see them again.”

“Thanks,” Doyoung says numbly as he grabs a tissue and wraps up three cookies. “Bye, guys.”

“Bye, Doyoung.”

“You got this,” Johnny calls. “It’s not forever, dude. We’ll bust you outta there.”

“Text us if you need anything,” Taeil adds.

“Your stepdad’s a bitch!”

“He ain’t got shit on you, Doyoung!”

“We got you, bro. Don’t forget that.”

Doyoung smiles at his friends. They may be loud and crazy and get on his nerves more often than not, but they’re the people he can always count on to have his back.

It’s such a shame that even his limited time with them has to be cut down even further.

The drive home is too short, and too silent. Jaehyun doesn’t talk the whole way, and Doyoung spends the silence staring out the pristine window of his friend’s Mercedes. The lights of their humble suburban city fades away in a blur of color against black, and Doyoung feels that in the couple minutes they’re cruising down streets and past blinking lights, that he could just stay in this moment with Jaehyun and forget everything else.

And like all daydreams, it vanishes. The beautiful view from the hills is gone, and sooner than he would like, Doyoung spots the quiet little residential area he lives in.

Jaehyun pulls up outside Doyoung’s house, and Doyoung feels that he has never hated the plain white building any more than he does now.

“Well,” he sighs. “Guess I’m going in. Wish me luck, Jae.”

Jaehyun’s eyes are unreadable in the dark. “Good luck, Doie. Hit me up if you need anything.”

Doyoung doesn’t answer as he turns to leave, because he knows that Jaehyun knows the answer anyway.

_Of course._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The soccer ball incident actually happened in real life lmaooo  
> 127 squad is #friendshipgoals  
> Thanks for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this, and I'll try to be as consistent with updates as possible!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning, this chapter contains some mildly racist/homophobic references.

**April 28**

Initially, it seemed like a good idea to bring Taeyong home to help him pack, but now that Doyoung’s in front of the door with his parents behind him, he’s starting to have his doubts.

Taeyong is standing there, dressed in an oversized baby blue sweater and white jeans, with round glasses perched on his nose, and his backpack in his hands. There’s foundation around his neck and over his wrists, but only Doyoung can tell, because he knows what the makeup is hiding. 

Taeyong smiles at the family and bows to Doyoung’s parents politely. “Hello, auntie. And hello...sir.”

“Taeyong, sweetie! How’ve you been? You’ve gotten so handsome since I last saw you!” Doyoung’s mother cooes, bringing a hand to pat his cheek affectionately. Doyoung doesn’t think his mother has ever been that happy towards her own son. Not lately, at least.

Taeyong laughs lightly, taking the compliment in stride. “Thank you, auntie. I’ve been doing fine. Doyoung said he needed help with calculus, so here I am!” His voice is deliberately higher and slightly breathy, accentuating his sweet appearance. Doyoung knows from experience that sort of behavior is guaranteed to win parents and adults over, because there’s nothing more lovable than a sweet, beautiful boy—inside and out.

Out of the corner of his eye, Doyoung sees Will narrow his eyes in scrutiny. “What’s your name again, son?” he asks.

“Oh, it’s Taeyong.”

“What?”

“Taeyong. Tae-yong,” Taeyong enunciates patiently.

“Do you have an English name you go by?”

Taeyong’s smile is easy, but Doyoung knows him well enough to see the disgust in his eyes. “No, sorry. It’s just Taeyong.”

“And you always dress like that?” Will asks, gesturing to Taeyong’s outfit.

“Well, yes. Unless I’m at a funeral, I guess,” Taeyong jokes lightly. “Why do you ask?”

Will grunts something unintelligible, then turns away to leave. “Charlie, make sure you and your friend don’t make too much noise,” he grumbles.

Doyoung rolls his eyes. His mother sighs. “Don’t mind that, sweetheart,” she says reassuringly to Taeyong, who looks thoroughly confused. “My husband’s just tired.”

“You should stop making excuses for his rudeness,” Doyoung hisses under his breath. His mother looks at him, and he stares straight back. “Mom, you know it.”

“Let’s not talk about this,” she says quietly, before escorting Taeyong into the house. “You boys go on ahead. I’ll bring in some snacks later for you.”

The short trek upstairs feels more like a walk of shame than anything else, and Doyoung feels so fucking embarrassed. Not at himself, but at Will and the audacity he has to just insult Taeyong upon their first meeting. And even though Doyoung knows that Taeyong is aware of how dysfunctional his family is, he still doesn't want one of his best friends to have such a negative first impression. But life wouldn't be life if nothing ever goes wrong, and Doyoung wishes that he can just forget the last five minutes of his life ever happened.

“Bruh,” Taeyong says as soon as they’re in the (relatively) soundproof safety of Doyoung’s room. He drops his bag, and along with it, his formalities. Doyoung finds Taeyong’s duality utterly fascinating as the blonde boy’s voice drops to its normal pitch.

“If I thought you were exaggerating on how much of an asshole your stepdad was before, I take it back now. All of it.” Taeyong’s large doe eyes narrow dangerously. “God, he’s _rude_.”

“Imagine if you actually told him that you go by ‘Taylor’ at school.” Doyoung rolls his eyes. “God, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Taeyong smiles brightly. “Glad I remembered some of your past rants, then. I get you, though. Taylor sounds weird, even if it’s printed on the yearbook.”

“Nobody has to know,” Doyoung sighs. “Now please help me.”

“It’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” Taeyong unzips his backpack, revealing its empty inside. “Okay, whatchu got for me?”

They move quickly, ransacking Doyoung’s closet and drawers for the clothes currently out of season and any sentimental items not on display. Taeyong folds the clothes meticulously, rolling and tucking until essentially all of Doyoung’s heavier winter wear fits snugly into his bag.

“Oh here, I brought you this.” Taeyong unzips the front pocket of his backpack and pulls out a bar of chocolate. It’s Ghirardelli, the Intense Dark twilight delight that Doyoung will probably sell a part of his soul for. He can already feel himself salivating just from the sight of the chocolate alone.

Doyoung takes the treat gratefully. “Bless your soul, Yong. I needed this.”

“Yeah, I can tell. That’s why I brought it.” Taeyong sits on the floor next to his bag and heaves a breath. “Man, your room is depressing. There’s really nothing here to look at.”

Doyoung scans over his room, looking past the bare walls and almost-empty bookshelf off the side of his equally-empty desk. The only remotely-decorated thing is his bed, decked out in neatly-folded navy sheets and white blankets. On his nightstand is a single alarm clock and a small picture frame.

Doyoung picks up the frame, then brings it to Taeyong. “Think you can fit this into your bag too?”

Taeyong looks at his bag uncertainly. “I can try,” he offers. “Is that of your family?”

Doyoung smiles, genuine and toothy. “Yeah. It’s the only photo I can stand looking at. Take care of it for me until Friday, will you?”

Taeyong takes the frame like it’s made of glass. He glances at it briefly, face neutral, then carefully makes a pocket amidst the clothes and slides the frame in. 

“Of course.”

* * *

“That friend of yours, Tay-on or whatever, shouldn’t come by anymore.”

Doyoung almost snaps his chopsticks in half. And those were his metal ones too. “Why?”

“He seems weird,” Will says flatly through a mouthful of steak. “Weird and dishonest. Who the hell even dyes their hair blonde these days? He’s not a good influence on you.”

He’s basically describing the entire young adult population to some extent, but Doyoung is absolutely FURIOUS that this bastard would even THINK to describe sweet, gentle Taeyong as anything but a good person. Even Doyoung's mother looks appalled, staring at her husband wide-eyed and disbelieving.

“Honey, Taeyong is the sweetest boy,” she says calmly. “He and Jaehyun have been Charlie’s best friends since kindergarten. I don’t think that’s quite fair to him for you to judge so shallowly.”

“From what I can tell, I don’t like him,” Will snorts. “Dressing like a girl and having tattoos. You think I didn’t see it?” His eyes flit to Doyoung. “You think I can’t tell when someone is trying to hide something?”

Doyoung flinches but hides it with a shoulder roll. His mother blinks in surprise and turns to Doyoung.

“Charlie, is that true?”

Doyoung sighs. There’s really no point in trying to lie his way out of this one. “Yes, it’s true. And what does Taeyong’s tattoos have to say about his character? He’s still one of my best friends.”

“Only hoodlums have tattoos,” Will humphs. “Those kids who are always up to no good. How the hell does he expect to find a real job looking like that?”

Fire burns behind Doyoung’s eyes, and his grip around his chopsticks tighten to the point of his fingers turning white. His mother reaches out a hand to soothingly pat him on the arm, but Doyoung feels nothing but rage. It burns in him, painful and hot and violent. Doyoung can take shit thrown at him just fine, but Will just made it more personal than anything else by dragging Taeyong into this. 

And goddamn it if Doyoung is just going to sit and take this crap. He’s known Taeyong since they were practically babies, and there has never been a moment when Taeyong has been nothing but _good_ to him, even if Doyoung hasn't been as good back. And as the years passed and heaven on earth burned into hell, Doyoung swore to himself that he would always be there for Taeyong, because Taeyong has always been there for him. 

Hell, the guy isn’t even _here_ to care about whatever the hell Will is saying about him, and knowing Taeyong, he probably won’t care anyways. But Doyoung _is_ here, and he _does_ care—maybe even a little too much. 

He’ll take the heat. He’ll take it all.

“Well, at least Taeyong had the decency to try and cover himself up, right?” It’s getting incredibly hard for Doyoung to keep his voice calm. “He’s just trying to be polite.”

Will sneers. “See, if he really _was_ polite, he wouldn’t have to even _try_ , now would he?”

 _Try?_ Doyoung sets down his chopsticks a little too forcefully. “What do you have against him?” he snaps, feeling the pent-up anger inside him slowly being released. “Taeyong’s a good guy. How did he offend you?”

“I told you already, were you not listening?” Will shoots back through a mouthful of meat. “He’s prissy, dishonest, and probably a hoodlum. He’s not welcome here anymore.”

“You don’t even know him!”

“You saying I can’t judge a character for myself, Charlie?” Will challenges, stressing the name like it’s a curse. “You think if I can’t do that I’d be a manager at my workplace? Don’t try to argue with success, boy. It’ll never work.”

_Enough._

“I think I’m full,” Doyoung says immediately, pushing his mother’s hand off his arm and taking his half-full plate over to the kitchen. Will is still talking about something, but Doyoung can’t hear any of it past the blood rushing in his ears.

_How fucking DARE he._

His mother is talking now. “Charlie—”

“What?”

“Sit down, dear. Come and finish your dinner, alright?”

Doyoung dumps the leftovers on his plate into the trash, making a show of scraping every last bit into the bin. It’s passive-aggressive, sure, and an insult to his mother’s cooking to boot, but when Doyoung is angry, that carefully-constructed wall called “courtesy” comes crumbling down. He raises the plate higher, showing its empty side to his parents, and wipes off any remaining residue, rinsing it off into the sink, because on top of being passive-aggressive, Doyoung is also petty. If he can’t physically raise both of his middle fingers at them, then this will have to do.

“Just leave me alone,” he huffs, setting the plate and utensils into the dishwasher.

“Is that how you talk to your mother, Charlie?” Will snaps, beady eyes glaring right into Doyoung’s. “You think you can get away with talking to your parents like that, boy?”

Doyoung shrugs, faking nonchalance. “It’s a free country.”

“I don’t like that attitude, Charlie.”

“You don’t have to.” Doyoung turns without another word and walks up to his room, tuning out whatever spiel Will is spouting behind his back. 

God, he needs to talk to someone.

Doyoung’s phone is in his jacket pocket when he reaches for it, and he calls the first number in his ‘favorites’ list. The phone rings once, twice, and is answered right before the third ring. There’s a brief moment of silence, followed by the sounds of papers flipping, and a short bout of static, before a voice cuts through.

_“Hello?”_

Doyoung flops onto his bed, feeling his anger simmer down a little after hearing the familiar voice. “Hey, Jae.”

 _“You’re calling me at 9 PM on a Tuesday night when you know I have exams to study for, so start talking,”_ Jaehyun says drily. _“What’d the bastard do this time?”_

“Wanna guess?”

Jaehyun snorts. _“Bruh, if I wanted to guess I wouldn’t be asking you for the tea.”_

Doyoung takes the invitation and immediately starts ranting, spilling all the details on Taeyong’s visit, his perfectly polite manners, the help with packing, and Will’s opinion on him. Jaehyun listens intently, staying silent except to utter hums of acknowledgement or the occasional scoffs of disgust. 

“He says I shouldn’t hang with Yong anymore just ‘cause he has tattoos,” Doyoung growls. “What the fuck type of reason is that? It’s just art.”

 _“He’s overreacting, as always,”_ Jaehyun says placatingly. _“Ignore his bullshit, Doie. It doesn’t mean anything.”_

“He insulted Taeyong, Jae.” Doyoung grits between his teeth. “ _Taeyong_. Nobody insults Taeyong.”

 _“I know, and I’m angry at that too, but if you fight back now, it’ll just make things worse,”_ Jaehyun replies. _“Listen, stick with the plan for now, and on the day we get shit sorted out, by all means, go off.”_

“It seems so long until then.”

_“I know, but just focus on the now, and time will fly by. We’re all here for you.”_

“Jae, what the fuck is his _problem_?”

 _“I don’t know, Doie. Probably has some superiority complex and his own insecurities to hide. Dude’s just being a control freak to give himself more power. That means that he’s not confident in his own abilities. He sees you as a threat to his authority.”_ There’s the sound of papers ruffling in the background. _“Sounds like he’s suffered some shit in childhood and is just stuck in that mentality that he has to be better than everyone else. It’s so immature.”_

“I get it, you’re gonna be a psych major.”

 _“I love picking at people’s brains.”_ The smile in Jaehyun’s voice pulls a grin out of Doyoung as well. _“Y’gotta get to the really gooey bits in there to see what kinda shit you can dig out.”_

The laugh that bubbles out of Doyoung’s chest is light and genuine. He doesn’t know how Jaehyun can always make a serious situation humorous, but it works. “Thanks for hearing me out, Jae.”

_“Anytime, dude. Hey, don’t let that bother you, alright?”_

Doyoung sighs. “I’ll try. See you tomorrow.”

_“Don’t be late to practice.”_

“Like I’m ever late for anything.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing someone you love brainwashed is terrifying and incredibly sad. Potential triggering themes such as apathy and parental disregard towards their child ahead.

**April 29**

Doyoung would’ve been perfectly content to just float in the pool for another ten minutes or so, but practice is over. Like, OVER over, the last of the season, no more 'waking up at the asscrack of dawn' or 'staying after school until dusk' type of over.

Pulling himself out the pool proves a little harder than normal, and Doyoung winces as the day’s drills come crashing back to him in the form of muscle fatigue and a budding cramp in his left calf.

A familiar silhouette comes into view, blocking the glaring sunlight from Doyoung’s face.

“Hey.”

“Don’t patronize me, Jae.” Doyoung manages to pull himself up enough to roll out of the pool, glaring into Jaehyun’s sunburnt face. The pale boy is wearing this sort of weird smile, one where it pulls his lips taut over his teeth, and Doyoung knows immediately that Jaehyun wants something.

“What?”

Jaehyun’s smile doesn’t waver as he extends a hand to help Doyoung up. “Wanna get coffee?”

Doyoung wants to say yes so badly, because coffee is exactly what his tired senior brain needs to maintain adequate function. He’s been running on five hours of sleep and early morning espressos for almost a week on top of swim practice, so to say that Doyoung is tired would be a gross understatement. 

He’s EXHAUSTED.

And here Jaehyun is, with his beautiful smile and offer for some much-needed relief, and Doyoung has never wanted to agree to anything more than a simple cup of overpriced brown bean juice.

But what he actually says is: “Sorry, can’t.”

Jaehyun’s smile drops into a frown. “Why not?”

“Curfew.”

“They did NOT just bump up your curfew,” Jaehyun's eyes widen comically as he stares at Doyoung. “It’s five o’clock, what the fuck?”

“Yeah, and apparently, I have to be back by six,” Doyoung huffs. “Will says that a little less privilege would teach me how to be more ‘responsible for my actions’.” He crooks his fingers into air quotes. “So basically, he’s pissed that I blew him off last night after the Taeyong discussion and now he’s making me suffer.”

“Jeez, that’s harsh.” Jaehyun pushes his wet hair back and walks with Doyoung into the locker room. “At this point he’s just out to get you, dude. What a tyrant.”

“It’s fun being me,” Doyoung drawls, patting himself off with a towel before pulling his clothes on and slinging his duffle bag across his body. “I gotta get outta there fast, or I might actually end up murdering him for my freedom.”

Jaehyun’s gaze is soft and sad as he meets eyes with Doyoung. He reaches out a hand and wraps it around Doyoung’s shoulder in a tight hug. There’s no words exchanged in the encounter, but the message is clear enough.

_It’ll be okay._

Doyoung places his own hand over Jaehyun’s, and feels...well, not exactly _better_ , but _righter_. Like maybe the universe isn’t completely trying to fuck him over in this moment. Jaehyun’s body is warm against his, and his hand is as red as his face, bare of sunscreen and dry from the chlorine. 

“I’m sorry you have to put up with all this,” Jaehyun says quietly, leading them out of the cramped space and into the parking lot outside. “I’ll take you home. We’ll get you out soon, Doyoung. We will.”

There’s so much promise in his eyes, and the sight of it makes Doyoung want to cry. He doesn’t deserve Jaehyun. Or Taeyong. Or anyone who dared to engage in this suicide mission of his, because that’s exactly what it is.

Granted, if he succeeds in asserting his freedom, life would be so much lighter and better than it is now. But if he’s somehow found out before he can fully cut himself away from his family (if he can even call it that anymore), then he’ll be a dead man. Will will kill him, if Doyoung doesn’t somehow manage to kill himself first.

“Can you keep this with you?” Doyoung asks, patting his bag. “It’s just some more of my clothes. Taeyong gave you the rest, right?”

Jaehyun hums as they approach his car. “Yeah. I cleared out part of my closet for you already. My mom even gave me an old dresser that she doesn’t use anymore.”

Doyoung smiles at the thought of Mrs. Jung, with her generosity and unconditional love. “Thank your mom for me, will you?”

“Sure.” Jaehyun takes the bag from Doyoung and places it inside the trunk. “Y’know, if any shit happens to you before we clear everything out, just call me.”

“Of course.” 

“I’ll return your bag tomorrow.”

Doyoung thanks Jaehyun, and they ride in silence. It’s not uncomfortable, but it is a little heavy with the leftover feelings that continue to haunt Doyoung to this very moment. The stakes are painfully high, and he knows that this—the obedience, the punishments, and restrictions—is only the calm before the storm. Will’s temper is a force to be reckoned with, but Doyoung has kept so much inside him for the last six years, and he knows that when the time comes, there will be absolutely nothing to hold him back.

It’s a terrifying thought of what one might do if they are to suddenly snap.

It’s even more terrifying when Doyoung doesn’t even know what he’s capable of, if that should ever happen.

* * *

When Doyoung gets back to his house, it’s just his mother inside. She’s sitting at the dining table, chin in her palm and staring outside the adjacent window. A cup of tea sits in front of her, no longer steaming and full to the brim.

Doyoung feels his heart clench seeing her like that. She looks lost and lonely, a shell of the bright, vibrant woman she was before her second marriage. He had a glimpse of that vitality when Taeyong was over the other day, but now, his mother is back to the new normal. A new nothingness.

“Mom?” he calls softly.

“Hello Charlie,” she replies, not even taking her eyes off the window.

“It’s just us, y’know. You don’t have to keep calling me that name.” Doyoung sits at the chair next to his mother. “What are you even looking at, mom?”

“Nothing.”

Doyoung sighs gently, not really expecting much else at this point. It's always the same scene everyday. He honestly doesn't know why he even bothered to talk to his mother in the first place.

_'Oh wait. There is a reason.'_

“Mom, can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

Doyoung sucks in a breath, mentally preparing himself for whatever conversation will ensue. “Can Taeyong still come over? Like, maybe when Will isn’t here? He makes Taeyong uncomfortable, and you and I both know it’s the same way around.” 

His mother blinks, eyes still fixed outside the window. “I don’t know, Charlie,” she sighs.

“Please, mom.” Doyoung leans forward and takes her hand in his. “It’s for studying, nothing else. I really need help with calculus, and Taeyong’s among the top in our class. Please.”

“You can study in the library.”

“The library’s closing earlier these days,” Doyoung lies, and the words come out so naturally, because even if they aren’t true for him, he knows it’s true for somebody else. “And I really need the help.”

“Charlie, I don’t know.”

Doyoung frowns. His mother has never rejected an opportunity to see Taeyong before. She loved him like a son, and Doyoung knows she defended him just yesterday at dinner. So what the hell is going on?

"I thought you liked Taeyong, mom."

His mother nods robotically. "I do like him. He's a nice boy."

"You never refused to see him before," Doyoung continues. "Did something change your opinion of him? Is it the tattoos?"

"No, Charlie."

"Then what is it?" Doyoung feels his patience stretch thinner and thinner with every second that passes. "What do you have against Taeyong now?"

"I don't have anything against him, sweetheart."

"Then what's your reason for not allowing him to come over and help me?"

His mother sighs, looking defeated. "I'm sure he has his own studies and family to worry about, Charlie. We can't keep burdening him to come here on your whims."

Doyoung frows, recognizing the familiar phrasing. "Those aren't your words."

"Mine, Will's, it doesn't matter."

"Yeah it does," Doyoung scoffs. "Is your mind yours or does that belong to your husband too?"

"Charlie," his mother says warningly, and that's the most emotion Doyoung has seen from her in the last five minutes of talking.

"I'm just saying. Just because Will doesn't like Taeyong doesn't mean Taeyong's suddenly an abomination to this household. He still loves you, mom." His mother remains silent, and Doyoung feels his energy leech out his body by just watching her stare into space. “Just think about it, mom. Think it over, please.”

His mother taps her fingers softly against the tabletop. She still hasn't turned her head to look at him. “I’ll think about it.”

“Thanks, mom.” Doyoung stands up to leave. “And also, I’m sorry. For you know...the other night at dinner.”

“Don’t worry about that, honey.”

Doyoung narrows his eyes, feeling suddenly angry. Not at his mother—god, NEVER at his mother—but at Will, and the effect he had on this woman Doyoung loves.

“You can’t defend him forever,” Doyoung mutters, hyperaware of every twitch his mother’s face makes. Her eyelashes flutter and her lips tug into the smallest of frowns, and Doyoung knows in that moment that he had hit home.

“A lot of the things he does and says are horrible, but you can’t keep making excuses for him, mom. When will you open your eyes and see it for yourself?”

His mother doesn’t reply.

But that's alright.

Doyoung doesn't bother waiting for the answer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of domestic abuse (verbal/implied physical) ahead

**April 30**

Taeyong comes again, after Doyoung finally convinces his mother to have him over right after school, when Will would still be at work. And Taeyong still keeps his tattoos covered, even though Doyoung tells him that his mother already knows.

They actually do study some calculus amidst packing Doyoung’s long-sleeves and spare sheets. Doyoung is hunched over his desk, an AP calculus book to his left and an AP physics book to his right. He has no idea how much time has passed, just that the numbers and symbols are blurring together into an ugly mess and his head is pounding with the beginnings of a stress headache.

“You think you’re ready?” Taeyong asks from his spot on the floor, his own books and notes arranged in neat stacks around him.

“If I say yes, I’ll be bullshitting both you and me,” Doyoung deadpans, watching his friend absentmindedly fold a shirt while reading over his notes. “This is all at a pretty bad time, huh?”

“Well, think of it this way,” Taeyong says, shoving the folded shirt into his backpack. “You pass the AP exams, good. You move out of this house, great. All done within the span of two weeks. It’s killing two birds with one stone.”

“I’m sorry for troubling you all like this.”

“What?” Taeyong’s head snaps up so fast it cracks, and he looks at Doyoung like he just asked the satellite coordinates to Tahiti. “What are you apologizing for? It’s no trouble, Doie. We all want to do this for you. _I_ want to do this for you.”

“I know, but it’s a lot to ask for,” Doyoung says, thinking back to his plan. It’s more of a spur-of-the-moment impulse than anything else, but now that they’ve invested in it, there’s no way in hell he’s going to back out. 

“Nothing is ever too much to ask for,” Taeyong says sagely. “Unless you’re talking university tuition. Then that might be a bit much.”

Doyoung chuckles. “Yeah, but like _still_. This is a lot I’m asking from Jae, and you, and also Mark. Speaking of which, did he actually get a new phone?”

Taeyong shoves another shirt into his bag. “Uh-huh. Iphone X, too.”

“Holy shit.”

“We all pitched in,” Taeyong assures, flashing Doyoung a gentle smile. The sight of it warms Doyoung’s heart. “Like, I know Mark owes you after you covered for him when his parents found condoms in his backpack, but we all wanted to help. So consider it a gift from all of us.”

Doyoung wants to scream in joy. This is happening. Everything feels so unsteady in his head, but now that they’re actually doing this, Doyoung feels more secure than he ever has before. Six years spent under the thumb of a man who wanted to completely erase all culture from him and make him submit, and now Doyoung finally has a real chance at freedom. The taste on his tongue is sweet, even without any substance.

“I don’t know what to say. Like, ‘thanks’ won’t even cut it. I can’t believe you’re all actually agreeing to abducting me from here.” 

“You deserve better,” Taeyong says. There’s no soft pity, sadness, or even anger in his voice. Just cold, hard logic. 

It's merely stating a fact. 

It feels selfish and a bit arrogant to agree, but Doyoung does, because it’s all he could do to maintain what’s left of his fragile sanity. Between test preparation and schoolwork and his stepfather’s ramblings and blamings, Doyoung honestly doubts his mind can take any more stress before combusting.

“Can I ask you something, Doie?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Taeyong lifts his head, but his eyes don’t quite meet Doyoung’s. “Does he ever like...y’know, hit you?”

“Hit? No.” The memories are painful, and just thinking about it makes the ache in Doyoung’s head worse. “Will never like, hits me. Or my mom. But he’ll like, shove me or push chairs in my way when he gets super pissed.”

Taeyong scoffs. “Like that’s any better. He sounds like a toddler throwing a tantrum.”

“Guess he never grew out of that mentality.”

“Y’know what, both you and your mom deserve better. Damn.”

“I’ve been tryna tell her that for the last six years, Yong.”

“Look, I love your mom as much as the next person, but if she can’t see how this is toxic, imma have to reevaluate my perception of her.”

“I wouldn’t blame you.” Doyoung looks at the neat stack of clothes in Taeyong’s bag, and feels his chest constrict, tighter and tighter and tighter. “I wouldn’t blame you at all.”

That night, Taeyong leaves with his books in his arms and backpack inconspicuously full of Doyoung’s clothes. Will isn’t there to make a snarky comment, and Doyoung doesn’t bother telling his mother that Taeyong is leaving. He walks his friend silently to the door, and thanks Taeyong with as much sincerity as he could muster. The other boy smiles and tells Doyoung it’s no problem, and Doyoung watches him drive off into the night.

When Doyoung returns to his room and opens his closet and drawers, he feels nothing but giddiness at seeing how much empty space is left over. The realization that yes, everything is working strikes Doyoung like a bolt of lightning, even though he always had a hunch it would happen. He feels elated, happier than he has ever been for a long time, and knows deep down that whatever may come, good or bad, he will find a way to push past it.

A harsh knock sounds at his door, the sound setting Doyoung immediately on edge, every nerve fiber in his body fizzling and pushed to overdrive as he anticipates the following words like a death sentence.

“Dinner!” Will’s voice yells through the wood. “Peel your ass off your laptop and get down to the kitchen, Charlie!”

Doyoung waits a few beats until he's sure Will has walked away, out of earshot. Once he made sure of that, Doyoung closes his closet’s doors and bangs his head against it, _hard_. Maybe, Doyoung thinks, if he does it enough times, he’ll give himself an aneurysm. Or a concussion. A concussion would be very nice. 

“Fuck.”

* * *

[To: Jae, 11:49 PM]

Dude

How much time u got?

[From: Jae, 11:49 PM]

in bed rn

so like a lotta time

wassup?

[To: Jae, 11:50 PM]

First off, wtf u actually sleep at a reasonable time???

Second, promise me u won’t freak

[From: Jae, 11:50 PM]

why’d i freak?

who hurt u?

nvm stupid question

[To: Jae, 11:50 PM]

_(image attached)_

[From: Jae, 11:51 PM]

son of a BITCH

WTF 

WHEN WAS THIS???

[To: Jae, 11:51 PM]

He pushed me

When I talked back to him after dinner

Again

[From: Jae, 11:52 PM]

bruh

a “push” ain’t supposed to give u a bruise the size of mars

on ur fucking ribcage

that shit’s BLACK holy fuck

did u ice it?

[To: Jae, 11:52 PM]

May or may not have hit a shelf

Ice means going back down to the kitchen

So no

No ice

[From: Jae, 11:52 PM]

okay

that’s it

ik we on our way to gettin u out

but fuck

where tf was ur mom?

[To: Jae, 11:52 PM]

Watching tv

Saw it go down

Didn’t do a damned thing abt it

She and that bastard told me i was too sensitive when I said “ow”

[From: Jae, 11:52 PM]

wtaf

dude

that’s abuse

like 3 types in one

triple whammy

wtf

who even is that woman anymore?

she didn't do ANYTHING???

[To: Jae, 11:52 PM]

I honestly don’t know

No she didn't do shit

How am I gonna survive the wkend Jae?

I can’t leave the house

They’ll kill me

Deadass

[From: Jae, 11:53 PM]

god doie

just

god idk

just stay away from him

stay away from them

gdi just stay away

im so sorry

[To: Jae, 11:55 PM]

What are u sorry for?

U didn’t do anything wrong

[From: Jae, 11:55 PM]

i wasn’t there to stop u gettin hurt

gdi

im so sorry doie

im sorry

fuck

im sorry

[To: Jae, 11:56 PM]

It’s okay Jae

Don’t cry

I’ll heal

No biggie

[From: Jae, 11:56 PM]

fuck u im not crying

[To: Jae, 11:56 PM]

Don’t lie to me

Srsly i’ll be fine

[From: Jae, 11:56 PM]

who’s the liar now?

[To: Jae, 11:57 PM]

Takes one to know one

[From: Jae, 11:58 PM]

u’ll nvr lie to me abt smthg like that tho

will u doie?

tell me if ur hurt

please

[To: Jae, 11:58 PM]

Of course

I always do

Gn Jae

[From: Jae, 11:59 PM]

...

ur not tellin me smthg doie

ik u

what arent u telling me

[To: Jae, 11:59 AM]

Dw abt it

It’s okay

gn

[From: Jae, 11:59 PM]

don’t pull that bs on me doie

there’s smthg bothering u

talk to me

[To: Jae, 11:59 PM]

Jae

I’m tired

I’ll be fine

[From: Jae, 11:59 PM]

fucking liar

what aren’t u telling me

doie

doie

dude what aren’t u telling me

cmon answer me

doie please

ik ur hiding smthg

what’s hurting u so bad, doie?

u can tell me

u can always tell me

doie…

talk to me

im here to listen

* * *

**May 1**

Doyoung can’t tell Jaehyun.

He won’t tell him.

How can he?

How can he just lift his blanket and his shirt and tell Jaehyun that the bruise the size of a baseball on his side hurts so badly he can feel it throb with every breath he takes?

How can he will his fingers to tell Jaehyun that the only thing that hurt him more is seeing the woman who he calls his mother sit there and watch as he’s shoved into a shelf? Hearing them both call him too sensitive when he reflexively complained about his pain upon impact? 

How can he explain the betrayal to Jaehyun coherently enough with words? How can Doyoung tell the person he cares about the most that as of the moment, and many moments before this, that he wishes that he just never existed?

The answer comes easily: he can’t.

So Doyoung doesn’t.

His phone is blowing up with notifications and calls from Jaehyun, each one more worried and frantic than the last. 

_Talk to me_

_Please._

_Doyoung, c’mon._

_Talk to me._

And Doyoung wants to. God, how he wants to.

But he can’t.

He’s too weak. Too hurt. Too miserable.

And Jaehyun—sweet, reliable, kind Jaehyun—doesn’t deserve the words of this broken shell of a human being. Doyoung is nothing but pain and sorrow—a reopened wound—and it would be unfair to unload all of his emotional baggage to Jaehyun, who despite all his good intentions, will never truly understand what hell Doyoung is going through. Who would probably be better off never understanding the darkness that Doyoung is drowning in, because Jaehyun is too bright a light to be engulfed.

Doyoung makes up his mind to talk to Jaehyun later.

When he’s a little more human.

When he can give Jaehyun as much love as Jaehyun gives him.

Because right now, there is no love. No love left in Doyoung, and no love out there left for him.

His phone screen is too bright in the darkness of his room, and Doyoung sets a reminder for himself for tomorrow. Tomorrow, when he’s rested and feeling better.

Tomorrow, maybe things will be alright.

Doyoung rolls over carefully onto his back, wincing when the action makes his side pulsate painfully, and checks his phone one last time. The little red notification bubble above his message app has a number count higher than all of his grades combined, and Doyoung shuts off the device, setting it on his empty nightstand to charge.

It’s now 12:05 AM, and he is tired.


	6. Chapter 6

**May 2**

Jaehyun is a force to be reckoned with when he’s determined, Doyoung will give him that. 

_“Explain from the beginning,”_ Jaehyun’s voice booms through Doyoung’s airpods, so loud and upset that Doyoung has to turn down the volume to keep from going deaf.

“Jae, I just woke up,” Doyoung croaks, checking his alarm clock, which reads 9:07 AM. It’s not far from when he’d usually wake up on the weekend, but it’s still easier to wake up to sunlight than Jaehyun blowing up his phone. “What are you doing up so early?”

 _“I’m washing my cactus, duh.”_ Doyoung can hear the eye-roll in Jaehyun’s voice and sighs quietly at the attitude. _“I’m gonna go to work soon, Doie.”_

“Shouldn’t you be more worried about that?”

 _“I’ll decide what I worry about, thank you,”_ Jaehyun says. Doyoung can hear a door opening and closing over the line. _“I gave you your 24 hours. Start talking.”_

Doyoung sighs. It’s too early in the day for this. “Jae, can we—”

_“Whatever you’re about to suggest, no. No, we can’t. Talk.”_

Jaehyun is always like this whenever he’s upset—brash, demanding, and a whole pain in the ass. Doyoung thinks that after being friends with the guy for over ten years that he’d know Jaehyun is going to grill him for this, but some things he can just never get used to.

So Doyoung does what he always does at times like this. He flops back onto his bed, gets as comfortable as he can, and starts talking.

“Don’t hate me, okay Jae?”

Jaehyun sighs. _“I won’t hate you, dude. I never have. Just tell me what’s going on.”_

“Will basically told me that he doesn’t want me to hang out with you guys anymore.”

_“What the fuck.”_

“Yeah...like I don’t know what got shoved up his ass but all of a sudden I’m spending too much time ‘screwing around’ with you guys and not enough time studying or whatever.”

 _“Dude,”_ Jaehyun's voice is tight with frustration. _“You’ve been on the honor roll your whole life. You’re like, one of the academic top 10’s. What the hell is he even worried about?”_

Doyoung groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I don’t know, Jae. I honestly did jack shit. I’m pretty sure he’s just trying to tighten his leash on me for no reason.”

 _“There is a reason, and that’s called ego,”_ Jaehyun replies. _“He knows he can’t control you for much longer and his poor little black heart just gotta go and try to make himself feel better, y’know? More like the man of the household.”_

Doyoung scoffs. “Amazing what types of idiots this planet produces.”

_“You’d be surprised.”_

“Fuck toxic masculinity.”

 _“Damn right.”_ There’s a slight pause before Jaehyun speaks again. _“So, is there anything else you need to tell me?”_

Doyoung purses his lips, thinking back to the encounter that started all of this. “Well…”

_“Don’t lie to me, Doie. I’ll find out sooner or later so just spill.”_

“Okay, fine.” Doyoung takes in a breath, ignoring the dull throb in his side. The bruise hasn’t faded, and the last time Doyoung checked it, it was only bigger and uglier. “We argued over me hanging out with you and the squad, and Will may or may not have said something really triggering.”

_“Like what?”_

“He said—” Doyoung swallows back the bitterness in his throat and forces the words out of him in one go. “—he said that he won’t have me hanging around a bunch of fags and delinquents.”

Jaehyun is silent for the longest time, and Doyoung is almost afraid the other boy got so offended by what he said that he hung up on him. It wouldn't be the first time, either. Jaehyun has always been intolerant of homophobia or any sort of discrimination, especially towards their friends. If Doyoung is the one to talk back to anyone who badmouths him or the people he cares about, Jaehyun is the one to throw punches.

Right as Doyoung is about to check his phone to see whether Jaehyun actually hung up or not, there’s a crackle on the other end of the line, followed by a sigh.

 _“Are you for real?”_ Jaehyun’s voice sounds a lot calmer than he expects it to be. _“Fags? Delinquents? That’s how he sees us?”_

“Yeah.” Doyoung picks mindlessly at the corner of his blanket. “So you get why I had to give him a piece of my mind, right?”

 _“I mean, the politically correct term would be a group of young queer men who occasionally engage in harmless mischief,”_ Jaehyun says. _“Damn, get it right.”_

Doyoung laughs, the motion making his ribs throb again. “Oh god, you should’ve seen him when I told him he was a homophobic bastard. The vein on his forehead was boutta pop.”

_“Then he shoved you.”_

“Yeah.”

Jaehyun hums. _“And your mom did nothing to defend you.”_

Doyoung expects to feel sad at the memory, or at the very least angry, but there’s nothing. No clenching inside his chest, no sudden burst of fury. Just a quiet, flat acceptance of the circumstances. A numbness that he doesn’t know what to do with.

“Nothing.”

Jaehyun is silent for a while, but this time, Doyoung knows he didn’t hang up. This silence is calm, contemplative, and heavy. Doyoung feels the quiet wash over him, and he knows that it’s just Jaehyun’s way of soaking in the information and considering what to say next.

 _“Doie,”_ Jaehyun finally says. _“You don’t deserve any of this.”_

“I know.”

 _“Look,”_ Jaehyun’s voice is tight with frustration. _“I know I really can’t do much, given your parents and all, but is there anything I can do for you? At all? Literally anything that can make you feel better?”_

Those words are all Jaehyun—caring, sweet, and genuine, and Doyoung feels like shit for taking advantage of his best friend like this, but he’s a selfish human being. A selfish, selfish human being.

“Just…” Doyoung feels tears well in his eyes as he thinks about Jaehyun. About the boy’s smile and gentle eyes, the way he so shamelessly loves the people around him, and it just makes Doyoung feel so much worse. “Just don’t mention this to anyone, okay? Don’t tell the squad about me being hurt. I don’t want them to know.”

Jaehyun’s voice softens. _“Doie—”_

Doyoung rubs the moisture from his eyes, breath hitching from his effort to not break down right there and then. “Jae, you gotta promise me this. You can’t tell them.” 

_“But why?”_

“Please don’t ask me why,” Doyoung chokes out. “Just do this for me. Promise you won’t tell.”

 _“I promise.”_ There's a short pause, before Jaehyun speaks again. _"Doie, I'm here for you, alright? You can tell me anything."_

"I'll just be a bother then."

_"No, you won't."_

"I'm already burdening you with staying over until the following school year, Jae. That's already too much I'm asking from you."

 _"I care about you, Doie. That's what friends are for."_ Jaehyun's voice has that hardened edge of frustration in it. _"Anything you need, I'm here for you. Don't push me away."_

Doyoung holds a hand to his chest and tries to will the pain away. "You've already given me too much."

Jaehyun scoffs. _"Honestly? I don't think I've given you nearly enough."_

"I seriously can't burden you with everything I go through," Doyoung sighs. "That's not fair to you."

_"Stop saying it's burdening me, Doie. It's not."_

"You're just saying that."

 _"And you're not thinking straight,"_ Jaehyun retorts. _"Listen, take some time to rest, alright? I don't wanna argue with you right now. I love you, dude. That's facts. Take it or leave it."_

Doyoung takes it. "I love you too, Jae. I'm sorry."

_"There's nothing to be sorry about, Doie. Just take care of yourself."_

The call ends, and Doyoung presses his hands to his eyes, finally letting out all the tears he has pent up in him. All it ever takes is a little nudge from Jaehyun, and Doyoung becomes completely undone. It’s not fair—this power Jaehyun has over him, making Doyoung feel at his most vulnerable with his sweet words, his concern, and leaving him with absolutely nothing to hide behind and no lies to tell.

But Jaehyun is a man of his word above all else, and Doyoung knows for a fact that not a single word of their conversation will be shared with the rest of the squad. Not even Taeyong.

Doyoung gingerly lifts his shirt, spotting the hideous patch of black and blue over his ribs, and runs his fingertips over the skin, the touch feather-light. It shoots a shock of pain through him, and Doyoung whimpers, letting his shirt fall once more and curling in on himself.

The pity party doesn’t last long, however, because it’s soon 9:30, and Doyoung has a schedule to maintain. He picks himself off the bed, and trudges over to the bathroom to wash up.

It’s Saturday morning.

In exactly one hour, Doyoung will have to cook breakfast for his entire family. But before then, he needs to clear out the dishwasher and set the table.

And this time, Doyoung makes sure to set the table _properly_.

* * *

**The Bunny Protection Squad**

[Casper, 2:04 PM]

guys

im worried

[Woouwu, 2:04 PM]

Uh-oh

[Ice king, 2:04 PM]

What abt?

[Casper, 2:04 PM]

doyoung

duh

[Canada, 2:05 PM]

i dont like where this is goin

wat happened?

  
  


[Blind Asshole, 2:05 PM]

kno the answer

gonna ask anyway

who hurt him

also fuck u taeyong change my name back

  
  


[Ice king, 2:05 PM]

Never

Suck it, Yuta 

  
  


[Woouwu, 2:05 PM]

Lmaooo

Savage

  
  


[Sunshine, 2:05 PM]

so do we need to be worried abt being arrested?

cuz imma throw hands istg

srsly what happened to him tho?

  
  


[Casper, 2:05 PM]

i just…

i don’t think Doyoung’s safe anymore

i’m worried

[Johnnybear, 2:05 PM]

Why’s that?

I mean, we been knew

But wdym exactly?

[Casper, 2:05 PM]

idk

but ik smthg’s not right

we need to watch out for him

[Canada, 2:06 PM]

so like

should we call him or?

[Casper, 2:06 PM]

no

[Johnnybear, 2:06 PM]

No

  
  


[Blind Asshole, 2:06 PM]

nope

  
  


[Ice king, 2:06 PM]

Don’t

  
  


[Sunshine, 2:06 PM]

u dumb fuck

  
  


[Canada, 2:07 PM]

y’all mean :(

ok so what do we do then?

[Casper, 2:07 PM]

tbh

idk

fr tho what can we even do

this is doyoung we talkin abt here

[Gramps, 2:07 PM]

Maybe just give him his space and time to heal?

It might help

  
  


[Ice king, 2:07 PM]

The voice of reason

  
  


[Gramps, 2:07 PM]

I mean

We don’t know what he’s going thru

It probably best we don’t pry

  
  


[Woouwu, 2:08 PM]

I can bake cupcakes

He likes cupcakes, right?

[Casper, 2:08 PM]

yea but let’s not smother him

[Sunshine, 2:08 PM]

subtle suffocation

got it

  
  


[Johnnybear, 2:08 PM]

I feel bad for him tho

Poor dude

If I was him I'd lose it by now

[Casper, 2:08 PM]

don't jinx him, johnny

just act normal around him for now

doie doesn't need more stress

we all don’t

[Blind Asshole, 2:09 PM]

right

bc some sadistic bastard decided APs should be a thing

  
  


[Ice king, 2:09 PM]

So many worries

So little time

  
  


[Canada, 2:09 PM]

i rlly hope he can move out asap

those ppl are TOXIC  
  


[Johnnybear, 2:09 PM]

I second that

  
  


[Gramps, 2:09 PM]

Ditto

[Casper, 2:10 PM]

honestly, same

anyhow

y’all nvr heard none of this from me

* * *

Technically, Jaehyun never broke his promise.

But he is worried. Doyoung has been contacting him less and less, and didn't even pick up after Jaehyun went absolutely berserk texting and calling him after knowing how he got hurt. It hurts Jaehyun more than he'd like to admit, because he's sure Doyoung has his reasons for not wanting to reach out. And knowing Doyoung, he probably just wants his space to lick his wounds in peace, but damn it if Jaehyun is just going to stand by and watch one of the people he loves most get abused like that.

"Honey?" Mrs. Jung calls, knocking against the frame of his open door. "Everything alright? Are you hungry?"

Jaehyun sets his phone aside on his desk and stands up, facing his mother. "Mom, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"If..." Jaehyun takes a breath. "If your best friend is being abused, and you know he is hurting real bad, but he doesn't want you to get involved directly...what do you do?"

Mrs. Jung's face falls slightly, and Jaehyun's heart sinks along with it. "Is this about Doyoung?" she asks gently, understanding and sadness in her eyes as she looks at Jaehyun. "Are you telling me that he's hurt?"

Jaehyun nods, and feels a familiar tightness at the back of his throat. The tears come before he can stop them, and Jaehyun cries out his broken heart as his mother wraps her arms around him and gently cradles his head against her shoulder.

"I can't stand this anymore," Jaehyun sobs. "He's being torn down and his mom isn't even helping him! He's telling me he's okay but he's not! He's hurt, mom! He's hurt!"

"I understand," Mrs. Jung says softly, rocking her son back and forth as he continues to cry. "I'm so sorry, honey. Doyoung is a sweet boy and he doesn't deserve any of that. And you're trying your best to help, I know."

"How am I supposed to deal with this?" Jaehyun sniffles. "He won't tell me anything! I just wanna help! They're breaking him!"

"I know." Mrs. Jung's voice is soft and full of a pain that only mothers can feel. She strokes her son's head gently, and Jaehyun wonders how much of this type of love Doyoung has missed in his life. "I know, honey. But you're doing your best. And having Doyoung stay with us, I think that's a very smart decision."

Jaehyun hiccups, pulling away slightly to look his mother in the eye. "Doie says it's a burden to us for him to stay here."

"What?" Mrs. Jung looks appalled. "That silly boy! It's never a burden!"

"That's what I told him."

Mrs. Jung hums, and turns her head to the dresser sitting across from Jaehyun's bed. "Well, hopefully he comes to his senses and realize that sometimes, it's okay to ask for help." She turns back to her son and gives him a gentle pat on the cheek. "And the same goes for you."

Jaehyun watches as his mother leaves, and turns to look at the drawer she had been watching a minute ago. It's the old one she lent him to put Doyoung's clothes in, and most of the drawers have been filled out already. Jaehyun walks up to it and pulls open the top drawer. It's mostly empty, save for a couple pairs of socks and some trinkets like a small picture frame and other photographs. For the sake of Doyoung's privacy, they've all been placed face-down, but Jaehyun is curious to see, because Doyoung has never been the type to collect anything that permanent. Without a second thought, he carefully picks up a small polaroid, and almost cries again when he sees the faces in the photo.

It's a picture of Doyoung and Jaehyun at junior prom. Their tuxedos blend into the dark background of the photo, but their faces are clear enough. Jaehyun is grinning into the camera, one arm slung over Doyoung's shoulder, the other holding a telescope prop. Doyoung's not even looking the camera, and his mouth is parted in the middle of a laugh, no doubt at something stupid Jaehyun said back then. His eyes are crinkled into slits and his entire body is slightly hunched over with how lard he's laughing.

The sight of Doyoung like this absolutely breaks Jaehyun's heart.

Because god, he looks so _happy._


	7. Chapter 7

**May 4**

“May the for—”

“Finish that sentence and die,” Doyoung growls, before taking another gulp of his venti triple-shot iced caramel macchiato. “I’ve heard that from Jungwoo, Lucas, AND Donghyuck already, and it’s not even eight.”

Johnny grins, handing him a McDonald’s takeout bag. “I got you breakfast.” His eyes scan over Doyoung’s face, somewhat scrutinizing. “You look like death, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Doyoung takes the food gratefully. Swim season is officially over, which rid him of his only excuse to come to school early, which in turn meant more time at home, and it’s been driving him insane. Will has been getting on his ass nonstop about his grades and trivial mistakes he makes daily, and he’s been ignoring his mother altogether. For the last week, he’s been skipping breakfast and dinner just to avoid seeing his parents and catching up on as much sleep as he could. 

And now, he’s been standing outside the gym for the past fifteen minutes waiting for the test proctors, and because paranoia is a thing, he’d left his house at ass o’clock without eating a single bite. Again.

God bless Johnny.

“Honestly, you’re crazy,” Johnny says as Doyoung bites into a McGriddle like a starving animal. “What the hell are you even gonna do with AP gov?”

Doyoung swallows his mouthful and shrugs. “It’s for the clout.”

“Now that’s some bullshit.”

“Full-rides don’t come for free, Johnny.”

“Okay, but I still don’t get why you’re gonna put yourself through three days of straight testing if you’re not even gonna use the credit for your major.”

“You honestly think that if I could, I wouldn’t?” Doyoung finishes the sandwich in record time and moves on to the hash browns, licking grease off his fingers. This is the best meal he’s had in over a month, and he honestly can’t even think too much over the taste of beautiful, heart attack-inducing fast food right now. “Welcome to the twenty-first century, Johnny. Getting into good schools is hard. So is impressing your parents, apparently.”

Johnny cocks an eyebrow. “You tellin’ me you’re putting yourself through FIVE AP tests in three days just to make your mom and stepdad proud?”

“Like that bastard’s ever gonna be proud of anything I do,” Doyoung scoffs. “I’m not doing this for them, it’s a lost cause. I’m doing this for me now. Hopefully the credits transfer, even if it’s just electives.”

“Attaboy.” Johnny gives Doyoung’s hair a ruffle before checking his watch. “Shit, I’m late to bio. Good luck, Doie, you got this, we’re still meeting at Jae’s on Friday, and Mark finished setting up your phone for you.”

“Take this with you,” Doyoung says before Johnny could leave, handing him the empty McDonald’s bag. “Thanks for breakfast.” 

Johnny takes it without complaint. “Anytime, my dude. Kick ass.”

* * *

As much as Doyoung would like to tell Johnny that he kicked ass, it feels more like he just got his ass kicked. 

After the four hours allotted for his first exam, Doyoung feels like he can barely keep his eyes open any longer. Technically, it didn’t go too badly, since he knew how to answer most of the questions, but the more difficult ones ended up eating all of his time and remaining brain cells.

He barely manages to use the restroom and eat a quick snack before being called back to continue on with his second AP exam of the day. 

So ensues another four long, torturous hours of dumping his brain onto a sheet of paper. Doyoung frantically wracks his brain for the answers of each question, and after about only twenty minutes into the exam, all the symbols and numbers start blending into a mess of nonsense, and his calculator feels like dead weight in his hands. Regret isn’t an emotion Doyoung feels often, but it washes over him now as he toils through question after question of pure mathematical mindfuckery.

By the time the bell rings for school (and testing) to be over, Doyoung faceplants into the table, feeling his soul leave his body in pieces.

And to think, he has to do two more days of this. 

Two WHOLE days of this.

_Jesus Christ._

Jaehyun is there to greet him when Doyoung exits the gym, looking slightly tired but a lot better than how Doyoung is feeling. He stretches out an arm, and Doyoung instinctively brings out his own to wrap Jaehyun in a loose hug.

“How was it?” Jaehyun asks, hand carefully placed on Doyoung’s waist. 

“About as bad as it could get,” Doyoung grumbles, letting himself be grounded in Jaehyun’s comforting hold. “God, I need a nap but I don’t wanna go home.”

“What a mood.” Jaehyun digs into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys, dangling them blithely between his fingers. He smiles, and Doyoung automatically feels better, because it’s that smile that makes Jaehyun’s eyes narrow into slits and brightens up his entire face. It’s the smile that tells Doyoung that above all else, everything is going to be alright.

The keys hang there, suspended in air by Jaehyun’s fingers, and shining in the sun like the metal from his rings. There’s a small scab at the back of Jaehyun’s hand that Doyoung didn’t notice before. He’ll have to ask about that later.

The thought of his curfew and Will’s temper still hangs over Doyoung’s head like an impending storm, but Jaehyun is right beside him, smiling with a promise of a better life, even if for a minute or an hour. The keys dangling from his fingers are an invitation for something wild and reckless and fun, and Doyoung knows in that moment that he’s willing to take whatever’s coming to him, because goddamn it, this is his _best fucking friend_ right here.

_Consequences be damned._

Doyoung snatches the keys out of Jaehyun’s hand and holds them out of reach. “I’m driving.”

Jaehyun makes a half-hearted attempt to snatch his keys back, and Doyoung jumps out of the way, laughing the whole way to the parking lot. They both enter Jaehyun’s car, Doyoung in the driver’s seat, and Jaehyun grins at him as he starts the engine.

“You sure you still remember how to drive?” he teases lightly.

Doyoung doesn’t bother hiding the smirk that stretches across his lips, feeling elated as his hands wrap around the steering wheel. It’s been so long since he was actually able to drive a car himself, because Will convinced his mother that he’s too immature to drive without killing someone. To physically feel himself in a car, controlling it, and taking ahold of his own life is simply breathtaking.

“Bitch, fucking watch me.”

They peel out of the parking lot and roll the windows down. Doyoung feels the warm spring air hit him square in the face and he lets out the loudest whoop he ever has in his life, because even if it’s just this moment, he’s fucking FREE. Jaehyun laughs along, and for the longest while, the sounds of laughter and excited hollering meld together into a beautiful cacophony of pure bliss. Just two teenagers living their best life, driving down the street on a sunny afternoon, enjoying the gifts of youth.

Doyoung clings to the euphoric rush of freedom for as long as he could, savoring his loud yells and Jaehyun’s laughter like it’s the last sounds he’ll ever hear in his life. They drive past familiar streets with no destination in mind, making a whimsical stop at Jaehyun’s favorite cafe for coffee, and another at a new bakery that just opened in the downtown plaza. 

It’s just the two of them against the world, up until the bright blue sky fades into an ombre of pinks and oranges and violet.

There is an entire thread of messages and notifications on Doyoung’s phone, but he ignores them all, throwing his care out the window with his voice. Right now, all that matters is his happiness and relief, and if that is just zooming around town with his best friend and absolutely no idea what the hell they’re even doing, then so be it.

It’s almost half past seven when they pull into Doyoung’s neighborhood, and the old paranoia and distaste comes crawling slowly back. Doyoung parks the car in the block behind where he lives, and they both get out—Doyoung to walk home, and Jaehyun to take his place in the driver’s seat. 

“Thanks for letting me drive today, Jae.” Doyoung smiles down at Jaehyun, who grins back.

“No problem, dude. Anytime.”

They exchange wishes of good luck for their upcoming exams and Doyoung watches Jaehyun drive away completely before walking around the block to his house. He takes the longest route possible, savoring his last few breaths of freedom for the time being and mentally preparing himself for the earful he knows he’s going to get the moment he steps through those dreaded doors. Time seems to slow down as he walks, and Doyoung takes one last wistful glance at the evening sky in all its multicolored beauty before unlocking the door to his house and cringing before he even opened it.

“WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?”

_There it is._

Doyoung sighs internally as he toes off his shoes, ignoring the pointed glare Will directs at him. He can feel his good mood from earlier drain completely, until none of the happiness he felt mere hours ago seems tangible. 

“Out with a friend.” He sets his shoes neatly on the rack by the door. “Duh.”

“It’s three hours past your curfew, and you didn’t bother telling me or your mother where you were,” Will growls. He’s glaring at Doyoung like he’s an abomination to humanity, and Doyoung stares right back, not fearing or caring anymore about the rage that will for sure be directed at him.

“I’m eighteen, I’m sure I’m mature and wise enough to make my own decisions at this point,” Doyoung replies calmly. To lose his temper is to lose to Will’s sick little game, and god forbid Doyoung ever falls into that trap again. Maybe it worked when he was fourteen or fifteen and unable to control his hormone-driven emotions, and maybe it resulted in his ass getting verbally whooped, but he’s grown since then.

There’s no more fear. No more skittishness. No more hanging his head low and just hoping that everything will fly by if he does what he’s told. 

That bruise on his side is evidence enough of how much he’s already endured. Doyoung can always take more. He’ll take all the heat, and throw it right back.

Will’s face is turning redder and redder the longer Doyoung retains his cool and goes about his business. “You think you can just do whatever you want when you’re still living under my roof? If you live under this roof, you’ll be living under my rules, Charlie. And one of them is coming home before your curfew.” An ugly sneer twists over his face. “Or should I restrict that even more? Maybe it’ll teach you a real lesson now.”

“The only thing that’ll teach me is how much of a fucking tyrant you are,” Doyoung deadpans, shouldering past his stepfather to grab a bag of chips from the kitchen pantry. “Maybe before yelling at me about discipline, you should get some yourself.”

A hand grabs him roughly by the shoulder. “Do you want to repeat that, Charlie?”

“I said,” Doyoung turns around and takes three steps away, because he’s not stupid enough to piss someone off within striking distance. “You need to calm your fucking tits, asshole.”

Will snarls and stomps towards Doyoung. “You little ungrateful bastard, do you really think—”

“Hit me, I fucking dare you.” Doyoung stares defiantly back. Adrenaline courses through his veins and he can feel his body getting ready to either dodge a punch or throw one. It’s stupid to even provoke Will further like this, but Doyoung has officially run out of fucks to give, and his patience has stretched beyond thin. If he’s going to get hit, then Doyoung’s going to take it like the man he is and show that asshole that there will be no more submitting. 

No more playing nice.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Doyoung smirks, raising his arms in challenge. “You gonna pussy out like whenever I make a correct point? Gonna retreat back into your scared little-boy mentality and just throw a tantrum? Is that what you're gonna do, huh? That what you gonna do?”

A perverse sense of satisfaction blooms inside Doyoung as he watches Will’s step falter for a moment, unsure. And while he keeps his face as neutral as possible, Doyoung is absolutely hysterical inside, because he knows that he’s just hit one of Will’s many weak spots.

_Oh, this is gonna be fun._

“Hit me, you coward,” Doyoung presses. “I know you want to. It’s why you make my life hell, isn’t it? You just want a little punching bag, because you’re so insecure you gotta knock someone else down for an ego boost. Go on, hit me. Then the whole world will know just how much of a fucking piece of shit you are!”

The blow comes as expected, and Doyoung feels himself propelling backwards to avoid getting hit square in the face. He skids to a stop a couple feet away, and seems to realize for the first time that it wasn’t his own doing that brought him out of a potential black eye.

“How dare you,” a soft voice mutters, and Doyoung turns around to come face-to-face with his mother. Her face is set firmly into a scowl, her delicate fingers gripping onto the hem of his shirt.

“How dare you,” she repeats, louder. “Who do you think you are to try and hit my son?”

Doyoung’s heart still hasn’t fully settled back into its usual rhythm, and he’s sure it skips a beat altogether as his mother pushes him behind her to confront her husband.

“Get away from here, Doyoung.”

_Get away, Doyoung._

His mother hasn’t called him that name since she married Will. Now, hearing his birth name from his mother’s lips feel nothing short of a blessing, and Doyoung runs up the stairs to his room as fast as he can.

Once the door is closed and it’s just him, Doyoung takes a hurried inventory of what’s left of his room. Most of his clothes are gone already, the rest stuffed into his duffle bag, and all his prized possessions are already long gone, taken by Taeyong and stored at Jaehyun’s.

Is there even a point to stay any longer?

 _Your mother_ , the voice in his head chides. _You can’t just leave her without a goodbye._

And as much as Doyoung would like to just run away and never come back to this godforsaken house, he knows that the voice is right. His mother is downstairs, holding off his crazy stepfather, and doing more to protect him than she has ever done in the last six years. It’s a great sacrifice, and damn it if Doyoung isn’t going to make her actions mean something.

So he stays.

It’s just before midnight when there’s a knock on his door, and Doyoung watches as his mother steps in, looking tired and worn but otherwise unharmed. An instinct as primitive as the one to run in the face of danger surges in Doyoung, and he pushes himself out of his seat and to his mother’s side. Feelings of protectiveness and love for his mother overtake every other thought in his mind as he pulls the smaller woman into a firm embrace.

“Mom,” he breathes, sighing in relief when his mother wraps her own arms around him. Her hold is gentle and loving and something Doyoung hasn’t felt—hasn’t let himself feel—in years.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she says against his shoulder. “But he was about to hurt you.”

Doyoung pulls back slightly to look his mother in the eye. “What else is new?”

“Doyoung—”

“Why’d you pull me away?” Doyoung interjects, suddenly irritated and more than a little pissed off. He can't tell if it's just the stress or residual anger from his encounter with Will, but the need to speak out is so strong he can't stand ignoring it any longer. “I would’ve let him hit me, mom. I’ll show the world what a monster he is. That can’t be worse than last week, now can it?”

“Doyoung,” his mother pleads. “I can’t have him do that to you. You’re my baby. How can I let you get hurt?”

For some reason even Doyoung doesn’t understand, contempt wells in him, and he lets go of his mother as quickly as he had rushed to hold her. A nagging betrayal, six years of it, comes rushing into him along with all the memories of when he needed the love and care of a mother. The countless times of humiliation and degradation he’s suffered, and his mother doing nothing to help. To think that a punch to the face warrants an intervention more than getting shoved into the corner of a shelf makes him want to scream. What was the difference between the two? They’re both forms of abuse.

“So this is what it has to come down to, huh?” Doyoung doesn’t even bother hiding the scorn in his voice. “It’s gotta come down to getting violently physical before you step in, is that it?”

His mother’s face falls. “Doyoung, please understand. I know Will has said and done some awful things to you—”

“Awful?” Doyoung scoffs. “You call being verbally and emotionally abused just plain _‘awful’_? You think it’s okay for someone like him to just belittle and humiliate a child into submission? What about that time he shoved me so hard into the shelf I damn near broke my ribs, huh? The fucking bruise is STILL THERE.” 

Doyoung lifts his shirt, watching his mother’s eyes flicker down to his side and widen in shock. The bruise has only grown in its healing process, now around the size of a small plate over his midsection. The skin covering it stained with a mix of purple, pink, and fading yellow-green, and when she reaches over to gently brush her fingers against the injury, Doyoung recoils violently as a sharp jolt of pain shoots through him.

“Don’t touch me!” 

“I’m sorry! Doyoung—”

“For years, I’ve pleaded with you to see,” Doyoung continues, dropping his shirt back down. “To see how toxic he is. And you didn’t. You took his side. You called me too sensitive and emotionally weak, just like he did! What do you have to say about me now?”

Guilt flashes in his mother’s eyes, but Doyoung doesn’t give her an opportunity to talk. Now that he’s started, there’s no way he could stop. All the emotions he’s bottled up for years—the hurt, the anger, the sadness—comes pouring out in the only way Doyoung can manage.

With a tongue of pure venom.

“Guess what, mom? It’s been six years. I’ve given up. Maybe you don’t care about all this happening to me, but I’m not gonna stand by and take his bullshit anymore.” Doyoung returns to his desk, turning his attention back to the books instead of watching his mother’s face crumble before him.

“Thank you for protecting me today. I need to finish studying for my test tomorrow.”

If Doyoung just turns his head a little to the side, he would see his mother shed a tear over her son. He would see the complete and utter heartbreak in her eyes, and he would understand that they’ve all made mistakes as human beings.

But Doyoung’s eyes are fixed on the books in front of him, and he sees nothing but words and symbols. He feels nothing but betrayal and hurt, and maybe somewhere deep, deep down, what’s left of his love and trust for the woman standing before him.

“Okay. Just know...I love you, Doyoung.”

That _voice._ The one filled with tenderness and maternal love that Doyoung hasn’t heard since he was only a boy of twelve, before his mother converted to the ideals of her husband. It brings Doyoung back into the happier days, when it was just his mother and him. Even without the money and house, life was just...happier.

The memories are bittersweet, and grows consistently more bitter the longer Doyoung dwells on them. This isn’t fair. He shouldn’t be the one to suffer from somebody else’s decisions. Why must his mother let another man into her life just to ruin his? All he wants is to be himself and be loved for it, but with a certificate and a wedding ring, half of him is instantly burned away.

And at this point, he doesn’t know who to hate more.

Doyoung’s mother moves to exit the room, shooting him one last, sad glance. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” she says softly.

“Don’t,” Doyoung hisses, biting his lip painfully to hold his tears back. It hurts too much to listen to that voice any longer. “Don’t talk to me like you still love me.”

His mother’s voice is quiet and heavy with hurt. “But sweetheart, I do love you.”

“No.” Doyoung raises his head, glaring at his mother through the blur of tears. “You love Will. That was your choice. You stopped loving me a long time ago.”

The shock and pain on his mother’s face is as real as the burning agony inside him, and Doyoung can’t stand himself anymore. He whips his head back to his books and props an arm against his head to hide the tears streaming down his cheeks.

He doesn’t hear the soft sob his mother chokes back, or the sound of the door closing.

For the longest time after, all Doyoung can hear is his heartbeat in his ears and the crackling of fire as his first bridge is burned.


	8. Chapter 8

**May 5**

His phone has been ringing for the last minute or so, and Jaehyun flings an arm out, reaching blindly until his fingers wrap around the device near his pillow.

“Hello?” he yawns, unplugging the charging cord and sitting up, blankets bundled in his free arm. 

_“Jae.”_

“Doie.” Jaehyun rubs his eyes groggily, almost knocking his alarm clock off his nightstand as he pulls his covers aside. “Wassup? You alright?”

_“I…no…”_

The clock reads 5:48 AM, and Jaehyun has an AP Psychology exam in less than six hours, but Doyoung is calling him right now, so there’s no contest.

And his voice—Doyoung sounds utterly _broken_. 

Jaehyun hates the fragile, quiet tone Doyoung is speaking in. It shouldn’t affect him as much as it does, but all Jaehyun can remember at the moment is the Doyoung who speaks with passion and a fiery snappiness. 

The Doyoung who wouldn’t hesitate to make a snarky comment or call someone out on their bullshit.

And whose tongue is nothing short of a whip when provoked even in the slightest.

There is none of that Doyoung now. 

“Talk to me,” Jaehyun says, putting the phone on speaker as he stumbles out of bed and pulls his closet open. He’s barely awake, head fuzzy and limbs heavy with lingering sleep, but the sense of urgency overrides everything else as Jaehyun dresses in the dark.

Doyoung is eerily silent for a couple beats, and Jaehyun waits, pulling on a pair of jeans and tossing off his old t-shirt for a fresh one. Time seems to drag on the longer Doyoung remains silent, which in reality is only a couple seconds, but for Jaehyun in his state of worry, it feels like an eternity.

Finally, the line crackles as Doyoung sighs. _“Jae…”_

“Yeah?”

 _“Can...can I come in?”_ Doyoung’s voice is small and rough around the edges. He must’ve been crying before he decided to call Jaehyun. _“I...I’m outside your house.”_

_What?_

Jaehyun’s heart is hammering in his chest as he throws on the first jacket he grabs and snatches his phone off his bed. The entire house is still dark—daylight still a good hour away—and Jaehyun reaches the front door out of muscle memory alone, blindly feeling for the locks.

Doyoung is sitting on the front step of his house when Jaehyun opens the door, phone in his hands and staring up at nothing. The light from his phone screen bathes Doyoung’s face in a pale blue glow, and from it, Jaehyun can see bloodshot eyes and tear-stained skin. His shoulders are hunched, making them seem so much narrower, and his legs are pressed against his chest.

Small.

Doyoung looks so _small_.

“Oh,” Jaehyun exhales, feeling tears prickling at his own eyes as he takes in Doyoung’s pitiful form. “Oh, Doie.”

“Jae—” Doyoung doesn’t even have the chance to get up properly before Jaehyun is wrapping him in a hug. His arms are pinned to his sides from where Jaehyun has his own arms wrapped around Doyoung’s body, and in that minute, all Jaehyun could feel is Doyoung’s heartbeat against his own and the warmth of the person he loves most in his arms. 

“Doie,” Jaehyun whispers as he buries his face in Doyoung’s shoulder, letting go of the tears that threatened to fall. “Oh my god, Doie…”

“Hey,” Doyoung says weakly, stretching out a hand to pat Jaehyun’s back. “Hey, Jae.”

“What were you thinking?” Jaehyun sobs, feeling his chest constrict with the force of his cries. “How could you just come up here without telling me first?”

Doyoung chuckles shakily, dropping his head against Jaehyun’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to bother you,” he murmurs. “You’re too far away and I wasn’t in my right mind.”

Jaehyun wants to scream that Doyoung’s a fucking moron, that it’ll never bother him to have Doyoung call him with his troubles, and that he’ll do anything—ANYTHING—if it meant that Doyoung could be happy. And if that’s waking up at the asscrack of dawn and smuggling Doyoung out of his house, Jaehyun would do it without blinking an eye. 

They live approximately five and a half miles apart—a short drive, a long walk, and an exhausting run. Doyoung has his backpack on the ground next to him, and Jaehyun will bet everything to his name that Doyoung walked all of the five and a half miles just to stand here before him.

God knows how Jaehyun loves this stupid, _stupid_ boy to pieces.

“I couldn’t stand them anymore,” Doyoung murmurs quietly, running his hands up and down Jaehyun’s back. “I couldn’t, Jae. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Jaehyun chokes out, tightening his hold around Doyoung as he cries. 

“But...it’s unfair to you.”

“Please,” Jaehyun rasps, raising his head to look Doyoung in the eyes. He doesn’t know what he expects to see—something broken, maybe empty—but Doyoung is staring right back, and it’s so dark and Jaehyun’s crying so hard that he can barely see anything. Doyoung’s face is a pale blur in the inky surroundings, and Jaehyun lifts his hands to rest on the other boy’s cheeks, feeling the cold, cold skin and dried tear tracks. 

“Jae—”

“Please just shut up.” Jaehyun blinks the tears from his eyes and lets his vision clear. Doyoung’s eyes meet his, wide and glossy, and Jaehyun can see the heartbreak through those beautiful, shattered orbs.

Doyoung ducks his head, fresh tears rolling down his face and over Jaehyun’s hands. They’re both crying now—one from guilt, one from love—and Jaehyun isn’t sure who’s which.

It happens completely unexpectedly, but one moment Jaehyun’s holding Doyoung’s face in his hands, and the next, he’s leaning forward, lips brushing the cold skin within his hold. Doyoung barely flinches, and more wetness slips down his face as Jaehyun peppers his cheeks with fleeting kisses, sweeping the tears away with his lips.

Doyoung’s skin tastes salty and bitter, but Jaehyun isn’t looking for sweetness. 

Not with Doyoung. 

Never with Doyoung.

Because this isn’t some sort of romanticized teen flick drama or young adult romance novel. This is real life. There is no kissing a wound better and just having a magical happily-ever-after. There’s no promise that life will be better and that they’ll fight to make things work. There’s no dramatic confession of undying love and a romantic kiss under the twilight.

In real life, Jaehyun is holding his abused best friend on his doorstep at nearly 6 AM, and his heart is shattering to pieces. 

In real life, Doyoung is hurt and hounded and there’s no telling if he’ll ever be the same boy Jaehyun has known and grown up with.

In real life, Jaehyun isn’t willing to tell Doyoung just how much he loves him, because it’s not what Doyoung needs the most. He doesn’t need Jaehyun to just kiss him and let love become the solution to all of their problems, and Jaehyun isn’t so selfish as to push his feelings onto someone who’s already been run over countless times. 

This is their reality. They’re no heroes or dazzling protagonists. They’re two teenage boys in a world too big and too cruel to them, and they’re both breaking—one after another.

Doyoung is brilliant and beautiful—the smartest, most hardworking boy Jaehyun has ever met in his life. He’s always pushed himself to be the best he can be, in school and as a person, and Jaehyun has seen him rise to his peak, come crashing down, and crawl his way up from hell with sheer willpower alone. He has seen Doyoung when he was whole, fragmented, and broken. 

And somewhere in the back of his mind, Jaehyun hates himself for not being able to show Doyoung the same.

“Jae,” Doyoung whispers, bringing his hands up to cover Jaehyun’s. “I’m really sorry. I am.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Jaehyun drops his hands to pick up Doyoung’s bag for him, and gestures to the open door behind him. “Come in. I’ll make you breakfast.”

Doyoung enters without complaint, and Jaehyun follows right after, feeling the heaviness of the bag in his hands.

This, Jaehyun thinks as he feels his muscles strain, is nothing compared to the dead weight that is his heart. Doyoung sits at the kitchen island without a word, and Jaehyun sets the bag aside to turn on the lights.

He whips up some scrambled eggs and toast, and pulls out the strawberry jam Doyoung’s so fond of, placing it before him along with a spoon. He makes sure there’s butter on both sides of Doyoung’s toast and that his eggs have extra pepper sprinkled over them, the way he likes it.

They eat in silence, and Jaehyun takes his time to look—really look—at Doyoung. He’s thinner than before, more tired-looking, and there’s something about the slumped way he’s sitting and the robotic motions of his arm that screams ‘jaded’. 

Jaehyun strongly suspects that whatever caused Doyoung to walk five and a half miles in the middle of the night to his house has to do with his family situation, but he knows better than to ask when Doyoung’s like this.

And to think, they’re both sleep-deprived, exhausted, and have another day of testing ahead of them.

Sometimes life truly is brutal.

But they’re here, sitting in Jaehyun’s kitchen just as the sun begins to rise, eating the most basic breakfast food that Jaehyun can manage to cook. Doyoung’s slathering his toast with a startling amount of jam and Jaehyun is ripping his own bread to pieces to stab with his eggs. It feels strangely normal, and it shouldn’t have to feel normal in this way, but Doyoung has stopped crying, and Jaehyun isn’t one to ask for more than he’s given.

“Lemme just...wash up,” Jaehyun mutters as he clears away their finished dishes. He turns to Doyoung, who hasn’t moved from his spot since he came in. “Doie, you wanna come up with me?”

Doyoung’s only answer is a slight shrug, but Jaehyun knows enough of the other’s body language to understand that Doyoung really doesn’t want to move. Jaehyun doesn’t push, and goes up alone to brush his teeth and wash his face properly. By the time he comes down again, Doyoung is still sitting where he’d left him, playing with the drawstring of his hoodie.

“Doie.” Jaehyun sits at the stool next to Doyoung, spinning around slightly so that they’re face-to-face. “Do you wanna talk it out?”

Doyoung shrugs again, but leans towards Jaehyun nonetheless, eyes downcast and shaded by his hair.

“I got into a fight with my mom,” he admits quietly, almost like he’s confessing a sin. “I yelled at her. Then I left.”

Jaehyun reached forward, easing Doyoung’s hands apart from their vice grip on each other. “What happened before that?” he prompts gently. “Why were you fighting?”

“I came home way past curfew,” Doyoung recounts glumly. "Like, a couple hours after curfew."

Guilt pools in Jaehyun's stomach. He'd been the one to offer Doyoung a drive around town. It was because of him that Doyoung took the offer, and even though the knowledge that Doyoung will always pick him over anything else should be flattering, it only causes Jaehyun more heartache, because deep down, he knows that he had inadvertently caused this. He catalyzed this. Doyoung is here because of him.

Cold fingers wrap around Jaehyun’s own, snapping him out of his personal guilt-trip. Doyoung is speaking again, his voice quiet and defeated. “Will started yelling at me and I—I got so angry.” A scowl passes over his face, and Jaehyun rubs soothing circles on the back of Doyoung’s hand, silently encouraging him to continue.

“I yelled back, Jae.” Doyoung lifts his head just barely, enough so that he can meet Jaehyun’s eyes. “I was so sick of him. I wanted him to punch me. I told him to, and I told him how he’s a fucking coward. And...well, he tried to hit me.”

Jaehyun feels his pulse quicken as he immediately begins scanning Doyoung’s face and body for any injuries he might’ve missed. “What? Where did he—”

“He didn’t hit me,” Doyoung interjects. “My mom pulled me away.”

“Oh.” Jaehyun lets out a breath. “Then what happened?”

“I went to my room,” Doyoung sighs. “Then she came in later. Told me how she would never let that bastard hurt me, like he hasn’t been doing that right in front of her for the past six fucking years.”

He scoffs, averting his gaze to their intertwined hands. “God, Jae. Six fucking years and she comes to apologize and say she loves me right before I take one to the face. Who fucking does that? Who—” Doyoung pauses, his breath hitching in his throat. “—what type of mother does that?”

“One who doesn’t deserve to be a mother,” Jaehyun says. If his voice comes out too harsh, Doyoung doesn’t react to it. “How could she do that to you, Doie? That’s nothing a mother should do. She doesn’t deserve you.”

“Yeah, I made that known,” Doyoung chuckles spitefully. “She doesn’t even love me anymore. She only said that so she wouldn’t feel guilty about not doing jack shit.”

Jaehyun hums, watching as Doyoung slowly crumbles, the angry facade fading steadily into raw, tender sadness the longer he speaks. His heart is aching so hard inside his chest it feels ready to combust, and Jaehyun sees the same pain reflected in the tears Doyoung is fighting to keep back.

“She doesn’t…” Doyoung sobs, bringing his hands to his face as he cries. “My mom doesn’t love me, Jae…she loves _him_.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun breathes out, feeling his insides cave in on itself as Doyoung becomes completely undone. “Oh, god, Doie.” He stands, wrapping his arms around Doyoung and pulling the boy flush against his chest. Doyoung’s tears soak into Jaehyun’s shirt and his fingers scrabble for purchase on Jaehyun’s arms. His sobs are muffled and Jaehyun feels each one reverberate inside him, down to his soul.

Doyoung tried to be strong for so long. He fought and screamed and cursed and planned, and for what?

In the end, he’s still just a broken boy. 

Running away doesn’t heal the bruise on his side, or resolve six years’ worth of emotional trauma. Seeing Jaehyun doesn’t change the fact that he had just cut himself off from his only blood relative left. Crying won’t give him his childhood back, and a hug can’t stamp down his anxiety.

But god, Jaehyun is willing to try anything to make Doyoung okay and whole again. And if that means he can only give his best friend all his love and a warm body to hug, then Jaehyun will sacrifice all of that, and more. 

More.

Doyoung deserves so much more.

And if there's one thing Jaehyun regrets in his life, it's not being able to give Doyoung everything he's owed.

* * *

**The Bunny Protection Squad**

[Casper, 7:08 AM]

guess who showed up at my doorstep

before 6 AM

[Ice king, 7:08 AM]

NO

[Casper, 7:08 AM]

yes

[Ice king, 7:09 AM]

HE DIDN’T

[Casper, 7:09 AM]

he did

[Johnnybear, 7:09 AM]

So what happened?

[Casper, 7:09 AM]

long story short

doie's stepdad tried hitting him

his mom saved him

he fought w her bc it took her so long to intervene

then he dipped

so now he’s here

[Johnnybear, 7:09 AM]

Shit, man

His stepdad is such a douche jesus christ

And that’s a long ass walk

How is doie now?

[Casper, 7:10 AM]

better

he’s taking a nap on my couch rn

we boutta go to school

[Ice king, 7:10 AM]

Okay okay

That’s good

Is there anything we can do for him?

[Casper, 7:10 AM]

no…

i don’t think he wants to talk abt it anymore

we should just let him recover

  
  


[Ice king, 7:11 AM]

Okay

Fair

Well...if anything else happens keep us updated

Poor baby

  
  


[Blind Asshole, 7:58 AM]

wait wtf i just woke up to this

holy shit

dude hope he’s alright

our poor doie

  
  


[Canada, 8:02 AM]

this mfker >:(((

istg

the audacity of him

tryna punch dy and shit

glad he’s out rn

bless u for looking after him rn, jae

  
  


[Sunshine, 8:15 AM]

huh

so lemme get this straight

doie’s asshole stepdad tried hitting him

and his mom did nuttin til then

and triggered him to fight w her and leave

am i right or what?

[Casper, 9:10 AM]

yea ur right

guys

this is all my fault

[Ice king, 9:11 AM]

Jae

Don't say that abt urself

You didn't trigger the events

It's not ur fault

[Casper, 9:11 AM]

but

it kinda is

i offered to let him drive us around town yesterday

i gave him the chance to stay past his curfew

and that's what caused this shitshow

it's my fault

i catalyzed this

[Johnnybear, 9:11 AM]

Jae :(

You gave him a safe place

That's all you've ever done

You didn't cause this to happen

You were only looking out for him

Stop blaming urself

[Casper, 9:12 AM]

but...it's hard johnny

like ik what part i played in this

i thought what i was doing would help him

and then this shit happened

now doie's estranged from his family

which is good ig

but damn it

they loaded the bullet

and i shot the fucking gun


	9. Chapter 9

**May 7**

Getting back into his house has been the hardest thing ever. Not only is it just plain painful, Jaehyun had latched himself to Doyoung’s arm and insisted on coming with him.

Doyoung loves Jaehyun, and if he’s being honest with himself, he wants Jaehyun to be here with him more than anything else in the world. At least Jaehyun can ground him and make sure Doyoung doesn’t do anything overly stupid and make this whole stunt harder than it already is.

But for now, there are some things he just has to do alone.

Moving out completely has been mostly smooth in terms of getting his belongings out, but getting himself out is a different kind of extraction Doyoung has to brace himself for.

It’s Thursday. A whole day to two days before the departure time he originally planned for, but Doyoung honestly thinks that if he stays in this fucking house a moment longer, he’ll lose what’s left of his mind.

All of his stuff is gone. The bookshelf is sparse, the drawers empty, and the bed stripped. There is nothing left to tether Doyoung to this hell he’s been confined to.

His phone buzzes with the notice of an incoming message, and Doyoung knows who the sender is before even checking the screen.

[From: Yongie, 6:00 PM]

_Hey doie_

_I’m outside your house_

_I brought hyuck_

_He’s got a bat_

  
  


Doyoung laughs quietly to himself, because _of course_ Donghyuck would bring a fucking bat. He types back a quick reply to Taeyong before picking up his backpack off the floor, feeling its light weight settle comfortably over his shoulders as he trudges down the stairs. His feet land heavily against each step, and they thud in tandem to the rhythmic clicks of plastic within his pocket.

[To: Yongie, 6:00 PM]

_Cool_

_Meet me at my front door_

_Bring the bat_

  
  


Doyoung sees his mother sitting in the downstairs lounge, her ipad on her lap and a shot of whiskey sitting before her on the coffee table. Will is sitting right next to her, reading something on his phone and chugging down a bottle of beer. There’s a little collection of empty bottles on the table already, along with an entire bottle of whiskey and more shot glasses.

Because that’s what responsible adults do during a weekday night. They sit together, do nothing, and drink. Drink and judge their only child.

Nothing new there.

“Charlie?” Doyoung’s mother calls as he rounds the lounge. “Where are you going?”

Doyoung turns. She’s not even looking at him. Her hand is wrapped around the shot glass and her other hand is tapping away at her ipad screen. Doyoung pities her—he genuinely, passionately, pities her. 

“Away.” He turns to the shoe rack and picks out his sneakers. “Don’t expect me back for dinner.”

_Or ever._

“You didn’t answer the question,” Will snaps, turning around to glare at Doyoung over the couch. “Where are you going?”

Doyoung slips his shoes on, taking his time to tie the laces neatly. “And I told you. I’m going away.”

“Away to where?”

“That’s none of your business,” Doyoung says back. Annoyance and anger bubble inside him as Will stands up and begins walking towards him. He stands, matching the older man in height as he approaches.

Doyoung will not back down.

Not now.

Not ever again.

“Charlie, answer the goddamn question,” Will snarls as he stands by the front door. “Where the hell are you going?”

“I’m not repeating myself,” Doyoung deadpans, stepping forward and undoing the lock on the front door. “Just leave me alone.”

He moves to pull the door open, but it slams shut before it even opens more than two inches. Doyoung takes a deep breath in through his nose, glaring at the hairy hand pressed against the wood and tracing it to the face of its owner.

“Will, move.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, boy,” Will sneers. “Answer me. Where the hell are you going?”

_Don’t punch him._

_Don’t punch him._

_Don’tpunchhimdon’tpunchhimdon’tpunchhimdon’tpunchhimdon’tpunchhimdon’tpunchhim—_

Doyoung grabs Will’s wrist and throws it off the door. “I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not going anywhere.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” Doyoung turns to glare Will in the eye. “Not anymore.”

Will’s face contorts into a scowl, and he slams his hand back onto the door. “You have no right to disrespect me like that, you punk! Not when I’ve housed and raised your sorry little ass—”

“RAISE ME?” Doyoung barks out a laugh, tightening his grip on the doorknob. “Asshole, you didn’t raise me for jack shit! At least she tried!” He points to his mother, who’s now standing, watching their exchange without a word. The expression on her face is pathetic. The sad blankness of it reminds Doyoung of a wax doll. 

“You would be fuckin’ nothing without me!” Will roars. “Nothing! I gave you everything you have, and all you do is disrespect me!”

“Well, has it ever gotten through your thick fucking skull that respect is mutual and earned, you bigoted fucker?” Doyoung spits. “If you wanted to be respected so bad, try being an actual father and husband without all the shit-talking and brainwashing bullshit!”

“Charlie,” Doyoung’s mother says before Will can retaliate. Her expression is still eerily empty, her eyes looking like broken glass. “Please. Stay. Let’s talk this out as a family.”

Doyoung feels his heart clench. He fights down the feeling, stamps it down with all his weight and buries it in the darkest recesses of his mind.

“No.” Doyoung pulls at the door again, this time using all his strength. “Fuck talking. I’m leaving, and I’m leaving now.”

Will presses harder against the door. “Don’t you even THINK about it.”

“Fucking watch me.” Will may be bigger than Doyoung in terms of mass and weight, but he’s aged and hasn’t seen a gym in at least twenty years. Doyoung is young, fit, an athlete, and completely pissed off with years of pent-up teenage angst.

It’s not even a fair fight.

The door wrenches open, and Doyoung barely manages to register Taeyong’s shocked face before his eyes dart to the object in the latter’s hands. In one smooth motion, Doyoung pulls the door completely open with one hand, grabs the bat out of Taeyong’s hands with the other, and swings it at Will’s face.

Will shouts, stumbling backwards and falling on his ass to avoid the bat. His mother screams, crouching down by her husband to check for injuries. Doyoung smirks, feeling both scorn and triumph as he watches his parents look up at him in shock.

The bat isn’t even past the doorframe. Doyoung’s arm trembles from the strain of holding its weight in midair, but he doesn’t bring it down. Not yet.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Will screams. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Wow. You want that alphabetically, off the top of my head, or in chronological order?”

“You little shit!”

“Shut the FUCK up,” Doyoung hisses, dropping the bat against his palm. “I could bash your fucking head in right now. It’d be so easy. But I won’t, and you know why?” He points the bat at Will, smirking when the man flinches. "It's because I’m not an abusive asshole like you. So fuck you, fuck this place, and everything that comes with it. I’m too good for you losers.”

“Doyoung,” his mother cries. Her voice is the same one she used that night, wounded and loving and _human._ “Please, don’t go. You—you’re my only baby!”

Doyoung sighs. “No, I don’t think so. Looks like you’ve got a bigger one right fucking there. You won’t miss me.”

“Doyoung, please,” she sobs in Korean. “Please, darling, don’t go.”

Something almost like sympathy crawls up inside Doyoung, but one look at the withering glare Will shoots at him is enough to drown it back down again. There’s no room for sympathy anymore. If Doyoung is going to finally become a person, then for this moment, he has to let go of being a human.

“No.” Doyoung steps outside the door, and the effect is immediate—the breeze tickles at his skin and Taeyong’s hands immediately hold onto his arm in a comforting gesture. His entire body feels lighter, freer, and Doyoung just knows that this is the feeling he’s been missing his entire life.

“Don’t try to find me.” Doyoung pulls a ziploc bag out of his pocket and throws it into the house, watching it slide all the way to the wall Will is leaning against. “And if you think you can even find me at school, you’re fucking dreaming.”

The broken pieces of his old phone clack together noisily as Will lifts the bag, and Doyoung takes it as his final cue to leave. His mother is sobbing, muttering to herself in broken Korean—phrases that Doyoung can’t understand and doesn’t try to understand.

“Mom,” Doyoung says flatly, watching as his mother lifts her head to meet his gaze. “You deserve better.” 

His mother moves to say something, but Doyoung pulls the door closed behind him and lets Taeyong gently guide him away to his car. The entire walk there, his mind is replaying the last encounter over and over again.

Doyoung doesn’t think his mother ever moved from her place on the floor by her husband. She was calling out to him, but her hands were wrapped around Will’s shoulders. The tears she cried were for her son, and yet her arms never opened for him.

She didn’t stop him. She didn’t even try. 

Like Doyoung, she gave up.

And Doyoung feels it now—clear as day—the hollow hole inside his chest that he thinks used to be filled by his mother. It’s large, throbs dully inside him, and hurts like a punch in the gut. Doyoung’s eyes well with tears, but he shakes them away. He won’t let himself cry. He’s cried enough already.

“It’s okay.” Taeyong’s voice brings him back to reality, and Doyoung realizes for the first time that Taeyong’s hands are still wrapped around his arm. His fingers dig a little uncomfortably into Doyoung’s bicep, but the gesture itself is soothing. Grounding. Taeyong’s eyes are sharp and striking as they meet Doyoung’s, filled with an emotion Doyoung can’t read.

“You’re okay, Doie,” Taeyong says gently. “You’re okay. Everything’s okay.”

“Yong—”

“Everything. Is. Okay.” Taeyong’s tone leaves no room for argument. “You’re gonna be fine. You did it.”

“I did it,” Doyoung echoes. His head twitches to turn back towards the house. Taeyong tugs sharply on his arm, and the pain snaps Doyoung’s attention back to his friend.

“Don’t do that,” Taeyong chides. “No looking back. It’s all over now. You’re done with them.”

If Doyoung isn’t seeing Taeyong here—in person, standing right next to him—he would think everything Taeyong is saying came from his own conscience.

“Come on,” Taeyong coaxes, his hold loosening a little as they approach his car. “Let’s get you home, hm? It’s rude to keep people waiting for too long.”

Doyoung’s head instantly fills with thoughts of Jaehyun, how worried he must be, and how long he’s been waiting for them. He can picture the boy pacing around endlessly in his room or stress-baking down in the kitchen, filling the countertops with a bunch of unnecessary clutter. Something would probably be burning in the background and Jaehyun would put too much sugar into his chocolate chip cookies. 

It wouldn’t be the first time, either.

Surprisingly, Donghyuck is sitting in the driver’s seat of the car, looking disgruntled. His expression immediately melts to relief when Doyoung approaches, and slowly fades to concern as Doyoung sits himself in the backseat, bat still clutched in one hand.

“Doie,” the younger boy whispers carefully. “Are you okay? Did you actually beat his ass?”

Doyoung chuckles softly, feeling tiredness weigh down on him now that all his anger has been taken out. He drops the bat on the seat next to him and buckles up. “I’m fine, Hyuck. Let’s—can we just go now?”

“Sure.” Donghyuck starts the engine without another word, which is unusual, because Donghyuck almost never shuts up. Doyoung knows it’s just the younger being worried about him. This whole plan of his has taken its toll on everyone involved. 

“Drive safely,” Taeyong warns, hands already gripping at his seatbelt. “You know the way to Jae’s house.”

“Chill, bro, I’ll get us there alive.” Donghyuck peels out of the parking space with all the finesse and theatrics of a spoiled, reckless teenager, and floors it down the street. Taeyong’s head thuds against the headrest and Doyoung feels the seatbelt dig into his neck as Donghyuck makes a particularly sharp left turn.

So, as far as Doyoung is aware of, there’s many parts of his plan that fell short.

He’s leaving on a Thursday, not a Friday or Saturday.

He sure as hell didn’t go quietly, not that he would expect any other outcome given the bastard he had to deal with.

And now, Donghyuck is driving the goddamn car instead of Taeyong, going 20 miles over the speed limit in a residential area. They’re all going to die before they even reach Jaehyun’s house, Doyoung is 98% sure of it.

Taeyong rolls down the windows and Donghyuck begins blasting Nickleback on the radio. Doyoung has heard “If Today Was Your Last Day” about a million times already, but right now, as the sun is just beginning to dip and the warm breeze is lashing at him from the open windows, no song has ever sounded better.

He doesn’t sing along to the song like he usually would, but Doyoung can hear Taeyong humming along to it, and Donghyuck is tapping his fingers against the steering wheel on time with the beat.

Today was his last day.

And Doyoung regrets none of it.

* * *

The doors burst open before Doyoung even finishes climbing the stairs leading to them, and Jaehyun runs out. His hair is pushed back with a coiled hairband and he’s wearing a black apron with flour spots all over them. A faint burning smell wafts out from the open door.

“Doie!” Jaehyun throws his arms around Doyoung, his hug so tight Doyoung feels his spine crack. “Oh my god! You’re okay, right? You good? Did the fucker hit you?”

Doyoung chuckles breathlessly and wraps his own arms around Jaehyun. “Nah. I almost did, though. With a bat.”

“What bat?”

“This bat,” Donghyuck calls from behind them, lifting the bat in his hand. “I knew it’d come in handy.”

Jaehyun sets Doyoung down, and wow—this entire time Doyoung had been airborne and he didn’t even realize it. He’s grinning now, dimples on full display and eyes narrowed into crescents. Doyoung returns the smile, poking one of Jaehyun’s dimples, eliciting a giggle from the other boy.

“You made it,” Jaehyun says.

Doyoung nods. “I made it.”

“He made it,” Donghyuck and Taeyong chorus.

Jaehyun pulls Doyoung into another bone-crushing hug, their cheeks pressed together and heartbeats pounding against their chests. Jaehyun’s heart is racing, and Doyoung can feel the dull thuds against his own chest. 

“Doie,” Jaehyun whispers, voice low and meant for Doyoung’s ears only. “Welcome home.”

Doyoung sighs, and he feels everything drain from him with that action. He deflates in Jaehyun’s arms, head resting against Jaehyun’s shoulder as the latter continues holding him. Jaehyun smells like chocolate chip cookies and burnt bread, and it’s the most amazing smell in the world. 

It smells like Jaehyun and safe places. It smells like happy memories and childhood friendships.

It smells like home.

“I’m home, Jae,” Doyoung whispers against Jaehyun’s shirt. “I’m finally here.”

There’s some shuffling behind them, and Taeyong suddenly hisses, “Hyuck! Put your phone away!”

“It’s an opportunity!”

“Don’t be an asshole, can’t you see it’s a very sentimental moment?”

Jaehyun chuckles, and the vibrations of his laughter resonates inside Doyoung’s chest. And Doyoung doesn’t know if sounds can have a temperature, but Jaehyun’s laugh feels warm. Warmer than his hug, and warmer than the cookies no doubt burning in his kitchen right now.

“Ah, let him be, Yong,” Jaehyun calls, never letting go of Doyoung as he leads the small group inside his house. “Come on in. I made cookies and some bread. Knock yourselves out.”

Donghyuck brushes by them breezily. “Sure, if they’re not all burnt already.”

“They’re not.”

“We’ll see.”

Taeyong flashes them a brief smile, a little narrower and more tight-lipped than his natural grin. “You’ll be alright here, right Doie?”

Doyoung nods, shifting as much as he can from Jaehyun’s vice grip. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“Good.” Taeyong shifts his eyes over to Jaehyun, and his smile softens a little. “Take care of him, Jae. I know you’ll do it.”

“Of course.” Doyoung doesn’t even need to see Jaehyun’s face to know that he’s smiling. “He’s safe with me, Yong. Promise.”

Taeyong hums approvingly, and disappears down the hall. Doyoung watches him go, and turns back to look at Jaehyun.

“You’re still holding me, Jae.”

“I know.”

“Are you ever gonna stop holding me now?” Doyoung asks, shuffling towards the kitchen with Jaehyun bumping into him from behind with every step. “I get it. I’m here now. I’m not gonna run away.”

“I know.”

“Okay, so can I at least get a cookie or something?”

“Sure.”

“And why’re you still holding me?”

Jaehyun chuckles again, and that same warmth is back, flooding Doyoung’s senses and making his head go fuzzy.

“Doie.” Jaehyun tightens his hug, his arms wrapped snugly around Doyoung’s waist like they belonged there. “I love you. I’m so proud of you right now you can’t fucking believe it. C’mon, let me hold you a little longer.”

Doyoung has never been good at telling Jaehyun no.

“A little longer.” He wraps his hands around Jaehyun’s arms as the latter hooks his chin over Doyoung’s shoulder. “Just a little longer.”

* * *

“Jae.”

“Hm?”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

Doyoung lifts the blankets, revealing Jaehyun’s arm wrapped tightly around his midsection. “You’ve been doing that all day.”

Jaehyun shifts from his spot next to Doyoung on the bed, until they’re lying face-to-face. “Sorry,” he says, eyes drifting slowly down Doyoung’s face. “I can’t help it. I missed you, Doie.”

“I missed you too, Jae.” Doyoung smiles. “Though, I think your mom missed me more.”

Jaehyun laughs. “Tell me about it. She almost ran you over, she was so excited to see you.”

Doyoung laughs along with him at the earlier memories of Mrs. Jung careening towards him and wrapping him in a hug even tighter than her son’s. What followed after was a very emotional mom-talk about welcoming him in and a huge dinner that Doyoung had struggled to finish. 

“Your mom could literally kill me with love,” Doyoung sighs. “Or by feeding me too much, whatever comes first.”

Jaehyun chuckles softly. “Yeah, she’s like that. She really wanted you to come stay, you know.”

Doyoung doesn’t find that too hard to believe, but he still asks, “Really?”

“Really.” Jaehyun taps his hand against Doyoung’s back. “Come here.”

Doyoung shifts closer, until he can feel Jaehyun’s body heat mix with his own. He smells like peach body wash and burnt cookies still, and Doyoung breathes it all in. It feels so good lying here with his best friend, under the same blankets, on the same bed. Doyoung thought that the first time he’d be lying in someone’s arms would be when he finds his first lover. Instead it's this—in Jaehyun's arms at half past midnight, right after the longest day of Doyoung's life, with AP exams still existing for a whole other week.

And nothing feels righter than _this_. 

“You know, I meant what I said earlier,” Jaehyun murmurs, pulling Doyoung towards him until their chests touch.

Doyoung looks into Jaehyun’s eyes, feeling nothing but warmth as he gently traces a finger over Jaehyun’s eyebags. “What did you say?” he whispers back.

Jaehyun takes in a breath and lets it out slowly. Doyoung recognizes it as a sign of nervousness. He’s seen enough of it at swim meets and years of shared classes.

“What’s up, Jae?” Doyoung asks, gauging Jaehyun’s face for any sort of reaction. “Just say it. I won’t get mad.”

“That...that I love you.” Jaehyun’s eyes are dark and glossy as they stare at Doyoung. “I meant that. And I know I say it all the time, like ‘I love you, dude’ and whatever. But I mean it every time, y’know? I love you, Doie. I want you to know that.”

Doyoung’s not stupid. He knows what Jaehyun means, and he knows that Jaehyun is purposefully not elaborating on what he meant by ‘love’ exactly. It’s almost painful sometimes, how considerate Jaehyun is, and Doyoung wonders how long Jaehyun has wanted to tell him this—how long he thought that Doyoung would honestly reject him.

“I know.” Doyoung rubs his thumb gently over Jaehyun’s cheekbone. “I know, Jae.” He doesn't say anything else.

Jaehyun hums, eyes slipping shut for a moment as he just lies there and hugs Doyoung. Doyoung hugs back, of course he does. No more words are exchanged between them, and that’s perfectly fine, because everything that needs to be said has already been said. 

It’s late, they both have school in the morning, but they both stay awake just a little while longer. Jaehyun hugs Doyoung tightly with his eyes closed, and Doyoung holds Jaehyun in return, eyes open and hands running gently through Jaehyun’s hair.

When he finally begins to drift off, Doyoung lets himself fall asleep soundly, his mind clear of all the thoughts that used to haunt him. There’s no worrying over how he has to quietly sneak out of the house in the morning. No debate over whether or not breakfast is essential or a luxury. No more anxiety from thinking about when he’ll have to return to a broken household.

When Doyoung finally falls asleep, there’s only one thought—one feeling—in his mind.

Safe.


	10. Chapter 10

**June 17**

“Congratulations, graduates!”

There’s a frenzy of happy cheers and caps being thrown into the air in the track field, and Doyoung loses himself in the celebration as his own hand finds his cap and tosses it into the sky to mix with the medley of blue and white. He doesn’t know if the cap that falls back into his hands is even his, but Doyoung couldn't care less.

“Doie!”

“Yong!” Doyoung turns and catches Taeyong in a hug, wrinkling his nose at the strong fragrance of the latter’s hibiscus lei. “We made it, dude! We fucking made it!”

“YES!” Taeyong screams, and Doyoung jerks a little from the sheer loudness of Taeyong’s voice. “We’re done! DONE! HAHA!”

“And to think, it’s not even noon yet!” Doyoung lets go of Taeyong and steps back. “God, it took for-fucking-ever!”

Taeyong laughs, before pulling the zipper of his gown down, revealing the simple dress shirt he wore underneath, overlapped with even more candy leis. He takes one off and hangs it around Doyoung’s neck, grinning the whole time like a fool.

“Congrats, Doyoung. You survived.”

“So did you.” Doyoung pulls out a small paper envelope from his pocket and presses it into Taeyong’s hand. “It’s not much, but thank you for being here with me this entire time, Yong. I couldn’t have done all this without you and the squad.”

Taeyong waves him off good-naturedly. “Ah, don’t worry about that. You would’ve done the same for any of us. We’re family, Doie. It’s what we do.”

“Doie! Yong!” someone shouts from a distance.

“Johnny!” Taeyong and Doyoung both turn to see the taller run towards them, cap and diploma in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. Jaehyun follows a couple paces behind, hair tousled and a grin splitting his face wide open. He’s dragging an enormous teddy bear that’s as tall as he is, which Doyoung assumes is probably why he’s slower to catch up.

“Hey!” Johnny pants as he finally stops before them. “Lookie! We did it!”

Doyoung’s just about to laugh at him when Jaehyun finally catches up, huffing and puffing over his six-foot teddy bear.

“Asshole,” Jaehyun wheezes, using his free hand to smack Johnny in the arm. “You didn’t have to ditch me like that.”

Johnny shrugs. “I regret nothing.”

“Where’d you get the teddy bear?” Taeyong asks before Jaehyun can make up his mind to drop his bear and strangle Johnny instead.

“My mom,” Jaehyun replies, taking in a deep breath as he points in the general vicinity of the bleachers on the other side of the field. “She’s got something for everybody.”

“Presents?” Johnny’s head perks up. “From Mama Jung? Where?”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes and jerks his thumb behind him. “Find her yourself.”

Johnny dashes off without another word, screaming “PRESENTS!” at the top of his lungs. Doyoung can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him at Jaehyun’s exaggerated ‘why me’ gesture at the sky.

“Glad to know where his priorities are,” Taeyong giggles as Jaehyun heaves a sigh. “Have some candy, Jae. Where’s the rest of the squad?”

“Dunno. Around here someplace,” Jaehyun says, taking the candy lei Taeyong hands him. “But we should probably find them. We need a group pic.”

“Right. But before that, can we have one? Just us?” Doyoung turns on his phone’s front camera and looks at his two closest friends. “C’mon.”

Taeyong and Jaehyun get behind him immediately, and Doyoung takes just enough selfies of them to be considered appropriate. Taeyong can’t stop blinking and Jaehyun’s face is almost completely blocked by the caps and his humongous teddy bear, but Doyoung wouldn’t have the pictures turn out any other way. 

“I’m gonna find the others,” Taeyong announces as they look over the selfies. “Meet me at the goalpost closest to the exit. I’ll text you when I get everyone there.”

“Sure,” Doyoung and Jaehyun both say, and Taeyong rushes off, immediately disappearing into the mass of ecstatic students and parents. 

“So.” Doyoung turns back to Jaehyun as the latter clears his throat. “Congrats, Doie.”

“Congrats, Jae,” Doyoung says, feeling his chest warm from the smile Jaehyun flashes him. “What are we gonna do now?”

Jaehyun laughs, loud and hearty with his head thrown back. “Hell, I don’t know,” he chortles, wiping his eyes on his teddy bear’s paw. “But we’re officially on summer vacation, dude. It’s time to let go and have some fun.”

“And you have an idea for that, I assume?”

“Nope,” Jaehyun says, popping the ‘p’. “But I got this bigass bear and it’s really hot in this gown and I kinda just wanna go home and eat ice cream.”

Doyoung grins. “Down. Take me with you.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.” Doyoung steps forward and links his arm through Jaehyun’s free arm. “So let’s go find Yong and the squad, take our last high school photo ever, and dip.”

Jaehyun nods, already leading them towards the goalpost near the exit. “Aight, let’s get it.”

The picture that they end up leaving with is—in short—insanity.

Nobody’s looking at the camera. Jungwoo has half a snickers bar hanging out of his mouth and Taeil sneezes. Yuta has one arm wrapped around Johnny’s waist and the other around Mark’s neck in a headlock. Jaehyun trips and faceplants into his teddy bear, pinning Donghyuck (who insisted on hugging it) to the ground. Taeyong is watching the pandemonium with a face of utter horror and Doyoung is cracking up so hard he’s bent forward in half.

“We need a retake,” Mark whines, rubbing his sore neck. “That was awful.”

“No,” Doyoung counters, looking over the picture that Taeyong airdrops to everyone. “This is perfect. It needs nothing.”

Mark groans, and Doyoung only chuckles as he saves the photo to his favorites. He’ll have to print this out one day, for sure. It'll make a nice addition to the one he already has framed.

Because this is Doyoung's family right here.

His only family.

* * *

“Shit.”

“What?”

“I think we’re out of ice cream,” Jaehyun sighs, closing the freezer's door. Doyoung lifts his head from the couch he’s sprawled on as Jaehyun walks over and sits on the armrest.

“Should we buy more then?” Doyoung lets himself be manhandled as Jaehyun pushes him over so he can sit on the couch properly.

“Probably. It’s gonna be hot as hell later on,” Jaehyun says as Doyoung resituates himself to lie down over Jaehyun’s lap. “And the squad’s gonna come over on Friday anyways. Might as well stock up on some snacks too before Hyuck and Jungwoo eat us out of house and home.”

Doyoung laughs. “Okay, fine. I’m down for a grocery run. But I drive.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes and bounces his leg, effectively jostling Doyoung off his lap. “You know where the keys are. The car’s been yours.”

“Great. On top of being able to live and eat with you, I get to steal your car too.” Doyoung jumps out of the way before Jaehyun can grab him. “Man, I’m living the spoiled sugar baby dream.”

Jaehyun flushes red. “It’s not—”

“I know it isn’t, Jae.” Doyoung snatches the car keys off the hook by the foyer and waits for Jaehyun to follow him. “I just drive better.”

“You literally ran a red light the other day,” Jaehyun deadpans.

“And I did it beautifully,” Doyoung counters. “Now let’s go before it gets any hotter.”

* * *

“You’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Jae, how old are you?” Doyoung sighs.

Jaehyun looks up from where he’s sitting inside a shopping cart. “Eighteen. And what about it?”

“You’re a grown man.”

“Technically speaking, our frontal lobes don’t finish developing until we’re like twenty-five,” Jaehyun counters. “I’m a legal man, and a kid at heart. Let me do this.”

Doyoung chuckles, because damn it, Jaehyun looks adorable all pouty and tucked into a cart too small for him. His legs are folded up to his chest and his arms rest on the edge of the cart because he can’t cram them in by his sides.

“Okay, fine. But if we get kicked out, I blame you.”

“I’ll take it.” Jaehyun points at the entrance of the grocery store. “Now c’mon, it’s hot as hell out here. I want ice cream.”

The next half hour passes by in a blur, and the only things that Doyoung registers is Jaehyun’s voice, Jaehyun’s laughter, and the endless array of colorful, calorie-ridden junk food.

“Doie!” Jaehyun calls as they turn into an empty aisle of chips. “Push faster, will ya?”

“Are you nuts?”

“Just trust me on this, okay?”

“Jae—”

“I’ll pay for the groceries.”

“Fine.” Doyoung tightens his grip on the shopping cart and pushes harder, until he’s built up a light jog down the aisle. Jaehyun whoops in delight, letting out a loud “whoa!” when Doyoung turns a corner a little too sharply.

“Whee! Go faster!” Jaehyun hollers, raising his arms like he’s riding a roller coaster. Doyoung laughs as he forces his legs to run faster, until they’re practically flying across the snack aisles of the grocery store. 

This is it. This is everything he could ask for, right here. Doyoung could give a rat’s ass about guaranteed academic success or a potential future as a New York Times bestselling author. Just pushing Jaehyun around a grocery store in a shopping cart, buying copious amounts of junk food, and stocking up on probably a couple months’ worth of energy drinks is everything Doyoung imagines a happy life to be.

“Oreos!” Jaehyun exclaims, reaching out with an arm to snag two packages off the shelf as Doyoung pushes the cart past the cookie aisle. “Milano cookies! Doie, get closer to the shelf!”

Doyoung laughs as he watches Jaehyun raise to his knees and stretch out his arm as far as he can to reach the paper packages of the cookies from a higher shelf. He falls back into the cart with an ‘oomph!’ and almost crushes their hot cheetos.

“You fuckin’ klutz,” Doyoung giggles, turning the corner and heading into the bakery. Jaehyun sticks his tongue out at him as they speed down the lane.

“Don’t say that to the guy paying for all this shit, Doie.”

“You offered, asshole!”

“And you accepted!”

Doyoung breaks off into another round of laughter as they enter the bakery section and Jaehyun immediately reaches for a box of cinnamon rolls.

Maybe it’s just the daunting life he lived under his parents’ watch that stumped down this feeling, but as Doyoung continues to fill the cart with junk food with Jaehyun, he feels complete. There’s not a single thing in this world that he can think of wanting now.

“Hey.” Jaehyun turns around, clutching a loaf of bread to his chest. He looks absolutely ridiculous in the cutest way possible, and Doyoung resists the urge to just coo at him.

“Yeah?”

Jaehyun’s smile is bright and toothy as he hugs the bread. “We should do this more often,” he says. “We’ve missed out on so much.”

“We have.” Doyoung slows his pace as he leans his arms on the cart’s handle. Jaehyun shifts in his position so that they’re face-to-face, his long legs bending rather awkwardly around all the food.

“Is this a bad time?”

“Bad time for what?”

Jaehyun looks like he wants to say something important, and Doyoung can see the gears clicking in his head as Jaehyun’s lips twist and pucker. 

“What is it, Jae?” Doyoung asks, reaching forward to teasingly pinch Jaehyun’s cheek. “C’mon, spit it out.”

Jaehyun bats his hand away with a petulant huff. “Never mind. You’ll just tease me.”

Doyoung feels slightly offended, because Jaehyun is absolutely correct. “You don’t know that.”

“I know you.” Jaehyun’s dimples appear as he smiles, and the sight of it is so endearing. Doyoung wants to just capture this moment as a picture and keep it in his wallet to look at for the rest of his life.

Because this—Jaehyun sitting in a shopping cart surrounded with junk food while grinning up at him—is everything.

“You’re everything,” Doyoung says before he can stop himself. Jaehyun’s eyes blow wide at the sudden confession, but Doyoung has too much pride to try and play it off.

If he’s going to bare his soul to his best friend in the middle of a freaking Safeway, then he’s going to bare it like a man.

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun says with a small chuckle. “Elaborate, please.”

“You’re everything,” Doyoung repeats, ignoring the heat that rises to his face as he meets Jaehyun’s gaze. “You’re everything to me, Jae. You always were.” He bends down slightly, so that their faces are barely half a foot apart. “I love you. I mean it. You know that, right?”

There’s a moment where Jaehyun is completely silent, glossy black eyes locking into Doyoung’s, and they just stare at each other. The air around them is filled with a sweet, bready smell and there’s some muted pop music playing in the background. Doyoung’s arms are bruising from the pressure he’s putting against the handle of the cart, and there’s dents forming in the loaf of bread Jaehyun is hugging to his chest. 

Their faces are so close Doyoung can count the individual eyelashes that flutter as Jaehyun takes in a breath. His heart is beating so fast inside his chest that Doyoung can feel its rhythm behind his eyeballs, and if the redness of Jaehyun’s ears are anything to go by, the other boy feels the same.

The kiss comes as Doyoung expects. Jaehyun’s lips are soft, a little chapped, and warm. Doyoung feels himself blush with all the heat that suddenly decides to redirect to his face, because holy shit, this is actually happening. Their lips are sealed, necks craned at awkward angles to accommodate the distance the cart put between them, and Doyoung’s arms are throbbing painfully from all the pressure he’s putting on them.

And somehow, this feels right.

Kissing Jaehyun in the middle of a Safeway on a warm afternoon no more than three hours after they’ve graduated feels so _right_. Doyoung doesn’t know who’s watching them, and he honestly doesn’t care. For this moment, Jaehyun’s all his, and Doyoung is just selfish enough to want this to last as long as possible.

“I’ve waited forever for that,” Jaehyun says softly once they break apart. He’s grinning, and Doyoung’s heart swells at the familiar sight. So many years he’s seen the same expression on Jaehyun’s face, and it’s only until now that he knows all the different meanings behind it.

_I’m so happy._

_This is fun._

_I love you._

_Stay with me._

“I’m not going anywhere,” Doyoung whispers, bringing up a hand to gently hold Jaehyun’s face with. “We’ve made it this far, Jae. You’re stuck with me.”

“Even through college?” Jaehyun’s voice holds a hint of uncertainty to it. “It’s gonna be tough hanging out then.”

“I’m only a forty-minute drive away, you won’t die,” Doyoung counters lightly. His attempt at humor works, because Jaehyun is smiling again, and that endorphin rush is back, making Doyoung’s insides turn to jelly.

 _‘Is this what true happiness feels like?’_ Doyoung wonders as he continues pushing the cart, watching as Jaehyun pulls out a stupid amount of Ben & Jerry’s from the freezers. He catches sight of more than two pints of Chocolate Therapy and can't help but smile, because Jaehyun always knows him so well.

By the time they finish raiding the ice cream aisle, Jaehyun’s up to his chest in pints of ice cream and there’s goosebumps forming along his arms. Doyoung pushes them to the nearest self-checkout counter and immediately starts ringing their items up, because clearly Jaehyun is in no state to move from his food fortress.

“...six, seven, eight,” Doyoung counts, dropping the pints of ice cream into a bag and handing it back to Jaehyun. “...nine, ten, eleven. So eleven ice creams, don’t get me started on all the cookies and shit, a what the fuck amount of ramen, way too much red bull, and a boyfriend. That’ll be $257.87.”

“So $257 and—wait, WHAT?” Jaehyun freezes from where he’s pulling out a card from his wallet. “Doie, what did you just say?”

“What? $257.87?”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “No, no. The part before that.”

Doyoung smirks. “Way too much red bull.”

“Doie—”

“Thank you.” Doyoung snatches the credit card from Jaehyun’s fingers and inserts it into the card reader. Before Jaehyun can open his mouth to say anything else, Doyoung shoves his card back at him along with the receipt. “Bless your soul, Jae. Now we got ice cream, snacks, and a life. Let’s go home.”

“DOIE—”

“Thank you, Safeway,” Doyoung sing-songs as he pushes the cart (and Jaehyun) out of the store and into the bright afternoon sunlight. “We gotta find a way to store all this food.”

“Doyoung,” Jaehyun snaps, reaching forward and grabbing Doyoung’s wrist. His brows furrow with displeasure and it takes every last ounce of willpower for Doyoung to not burst out laughing. “You called me your boyfriend.”

“Am I wrong?” Doyoung asks, popping open the trunk of their car to unload the groceries in.

Jaehyun smiles, hauling himself out of the cart once it’s empty. “Never said you were.”

* * *

Doyoung runs a red light on the drive back.

Again.

But it’s okay, because it’s summer vacation, he just graduated high school with his best friends, there’s over ten pounds of ice cream in the trunk, and Jaehyun is right next to him, holding his hand.

His best friend—his _boyfriend_ —is holding his hand and giggling over Doyoung’s uncaring “ah, shit” as they cruise along the road with the AC on blast and the radio turned up. Jaehyun’s gaze is adoring and fond and the same as it ever has been. His hand fits in Doyoung’s like a perfect puzzle piece, and his smile holds a promise that Doyoung knows by heart.

This is the life he’s always wanted. The life he dreamed of having and fought so hard to finally have.

Jaehyun is here by his side, and Doyoung knows for a fact that neither of them will be leaving anytime soon.

They have the whole summer ahead of them.

Then after that, their whole lives.

Doyoung tightens his fingers around Jaehyun’s, and feels Jaehyun squeeze back.

“I’m just gonna make one thing clear.” Doyoung spares Jaehyun a quick glance as they pull into their neighborhood. “Once the squad catches wind of this it’s gonna be hell on earth for the both of us. So be ready for that.”

“Mhmm.” Jaehyun brings their hands up and presses a kiss to Doyoung’s knuckles. “I’m ready if you are.”

“Oof.” Doyoung parks the car in their driveway and turns to look Jaehyun in the face. “We're just delaying the inevitable."

"Yep."

"So...fuck it?"

"Fuck it."

* * *

_"I FUCKING KNEW IT!"_ Donghyuck screeches through the screen of Doyoung's laptop. _"I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT! MARK! You owe me twenty bucks, ha!"_

Doyoung hides his face in his hands, because as if revealing the fact that he and Jaehyun are dating to their friends isn't mortifying enough, they went and placed BETS on it?

He really needs to reevaluate his friendship standards.

 _"To be fair,"_ Taeil says over the shouting in the background. _"We all kinda saw it coming."_

Yuta nods. _"You two are literally joined at the ass."_

 _"Congrats on your marriage!"_ Johnny whoops.

"We're not married, Johnny."

_"You live together. You go shopping together. You share a bed, which you're both ON right now. It's close enough."_

Doyoung's about to snap back with an insult for the sake of his dignity, but Jaehyun nudges him out of the frame before he can even open his mouth. "Thanks, guys. We're just glad you're not like, weirded out or something."

Taeyong tilts his head. _"Why would we be weirded out? You two were always the closest. It makes sense."_

 _"I'm so happy for you two!"_ Jungwoo chirps. _"You gotta tell us the whole story when we get together Friday! All the details! Or else."_

Doyoung and Jaehyun both shiver involuntarily at Jungwoo's sweet, not-so-innocent smile. "Sure, Woo."

 _"So,"_ Johnny says, leaning closer to the screen and waggling his eyebrows. _"How far have you two taken things?"_

"Johnny, we got together literally _today_ ," Doyoung deadpans.

_"Well based on how fast Hyuck and Mark moved I thought it safe to assume—"_

_"HEY!"_

_"Nope, we're not gonna talk about that here,"_ Taeyong cuts in. _"I don't have the energy for this and the toilet's too far away."_

_"HEY!"_

Doyoung chuckles, watching Donghyuck and Mark pull the same indignant faces over the screen. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea."

"We have boundaries," Jaehyun adds. "So please respect them. You don't see us going up to all of you and asking about your sex lives."

 _"Or lack of one,"_ Johnny coughs, pointing towards Taeil and Taeyong's frames. 

_"JOHNNY!"_

_"But that aside,"_ Mark says, suddenly serious. _"You guys are gonna be okay, right? You're two of my best bros, so I don't wanna give you both the whole 'if you break his heart, I'll break your face' spiel, 'cause I literally can't."_

Jaehyun reaches over and laces his fingers with Doyoung's. "Of course we're fine. I make sure of that. Doie's perfectly safe with me."

"And I'll make sure Jaehyun keeps his pulse."

The look Jaehyun shoots Doyoung is so wounded it's almost comical. "Wow, I'd risk my life for you and that's all I get?"

"Hey, you risk your life for me and I make sure you stay alive to do it," Doyoung replies, laughing at Jaehyun's expression before leaning closer to him. "You take such good care of me, Jae. I'm the luckiest person alive."

“Always have.” Jaehyun pulls Doyoung into a kiss, lips stretching into a smile. “Always will.”

 _"AWWWWWWWWWW!!!"_ a chorus of voices coo from the laptop.

 _"Someone screenshot this!"_ Jungwoo squeals.

_"I got it, just gimme a sec."_

_"Oh wait, fuck, are they—"_

_"Wait a damn minute—"_

_"Aw, EW!"_

_"EEEEWWWWWWW!"_

_"GET A ROOM!"_

_"Dumbass, they're IN one!"_

_"I'm leaving, bye."_

_"Me too."_

_"Me three."_

_"Use protection!"_

_"Oh, leave them alone, Johnny!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R,  
> I dunno if you're reading this, but all of this is for you. I know our story didn't have as happy an ending as this, and that's okay. I just want to thank you for being there for me through my hard times and know that I'll always be here for you when you're going through yours.  
> Maybe things didn't go the way we want, but we pushed through all the bullshit together, and now we're making our own happiness.  
> That's all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> Many aspects of this fic is based on real-life events (not necessarily all mine, though). The stress is real, but having good friends and a strong support system always helps :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this! Comments and kudos are always appreciated! (^v^)  
> Hmu w/ any q's or if you'd just like to chat!  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/Cydersyrup)  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/Cydersyrup)


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